


Arrow and Shield

by asamandra



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assassin Clint Barton, M/M, No Avengers AU, agent steve rogers, mentioned child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: “He never misses, he never quits, and never loses,” Coulson said. He sat down at the table in the conference room with a sigh. “If you’re alive, it’s because he wants you alive.”“But I don’t understand, Phil,” Steve said. "Why did he want me alive while he killed everyone else?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote [these](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/post/165340342533/he-never-misses-he-never-quits-and-never) minifics on Tumblr and now I turned them in a bigger story.

It was a situation new to Steve. He stood on a roof in pouring rain, held his gun beside his head in his raised hands and swallowed a bit. An arrow was pointed at his forehead and he knew it was faster than every move he could make. And the man in front of him was known not to miss his target. He never missed. 

Steve hunted him for years now and never got closer to him than right now. He was a bit smaller than him, but with really impressive arms and it was weird that he noticed _that_. He wore a ridiculous purple mask over his face and gloves covered his hands.

They stared at each other for a very long moment but then the man nodded his head. “Go!” he said. His voice was somehow distorted, sounded a little bit like Darth Vader. 

Steve couldn’t help himself. “What?” he blurted. Only minutes ago this guy had shot the mark they had tried to protect together with the whole STRIKE team and now he said he should go?

“Go,” the man said again with that nod with his head. 

“So you can shoot me in the back?” Steve asked. 

“If I wanted you dead I’d killed you long time ago,” the assassin snorted and made that move with his head again. “And now go or I may change my mind.” 

Steve nodded and made a step back. 

“You know that you’re on a roof, right? I mean, you can fall down if you don’t look where you’re going,” the man said. His heart beat like a sledgehammer, when he turned around to walk away but three steps later he looked over his shoulder, had to look.

The assassin ran to the balustrade and jumped while shooting an arrow at something he couldn’t see. Steve cursed silently, spun around and followed him. He saw him land on the next roof and continue running.

Steve deliberated for a moment. He could reach the other roof, he had to. It wasn’t too far away and with his super soldier serum he should manage it. The assassin was escaping and… he turned, took a run and jumped. And then he screamed out in pain. He landed on his ankle in a very wrong way and it snapped. He tried to stop his fall with his hands but the pain was too intense and he landed on his face, too. 

“Agent Rogers!” He heard the panicky voice of one of the agents in Coulson’s van asking over his comm.

“I’m alive,” he groaned and could hear a relieved sigh. 

“Stay where you are, we send medic,” the man said and Steve would’ve laughed if he wasn’t in so much pain. He would go nowhere on his own right now. And inwardly he cursed himself, Hawkeye was gone again. 

“Agent Rogers,” a voice said beside his ear. A hand touched his shoulder and he moaned a bit. 

“Ouch,” he groaned when the man helped him to turn around. But it wasn’t so much his broken ankle or his abraded face that hurt, it was more his pride. Not only did the assassin escape once more, no he literally fell on his face while chasing him. Bucky would never let him live that down. 

The two EMTs loaded him on a stretcher and shoved him to the door that led into the building and Steve squeezed his eyes shut till he was down in the ambulance and Coulson came over. 

“Dr. Farragut is dead?” he asked. Coulson sighed and nodded. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “An arrow through his eye. And he also killed the whole STRIKE team,” he added. 

“I’ve seen it,” Steve said. “But I couldn’t… I was too slow... and then…” 

“Let’s debrief when you’re patched up,” Coulson said and nodded at the two EMTs. One of them had wrapped a bandage around Steve’s ankle while the other one tried to clean the abrassions in his face. 

“Okay,” he said. “See you in HQ.” 

One of the EMTs closed the doors of the ambulance, went around and climbed behind the wheel and drove them to the Headquarters.

***

“He never misses, he never quits, and never loses,” Coulson said. He sat down at the table in the conference room with a sigh. “If you’re alive, it’s because he wants you alive.” Maria Hill, who sat beside him, nodded.

Steve hobbled into the conference room on crutches a moment ago, went to one of the chairs, sat down, put his foot on another chair and sighed. The damn foot hurt now and the cast started to itch already. He had an ice pack and pressed it on his bruised face. 

“But I don’t understand, Phil,” he said. “He killed Dr. Farragut, he killed the whole STRIKE team and when I followed him he pointed an arrow at me and told me to go. Why did he want me alive? He could’ve killed me easily and without getting into a sweat.” 

“We… think it might be… the STRIKE team, this particular STRIKE team… we suspected that they were connected to HYDRA. We didn’t have proof, but…” 

“HYDRA? You mean the terrorists?” Steve blurted.

“Yes,” Coulson said. 

“You think SHIELD agents are involved with HYDRA?” Steve asked and cocked his head. 

“I think it’s more like HYDRA agents who are sent to spy on us,” said Maria, who’s been quiet since Steve entered. 

“A whole STRIKE team?” Steve asked.

Maria had a file in front of her and she opened it now, took out a piece of paper and shoved it over to Steve. “Daniel Caroway was the team-leader and he requested certain members of STRIKE explicitly to his team. I think he was the first one they sent and to make sure that they didn’t get busted, he wanted the others in his team. They still got involved with the rest of STRIKE and SHIELD but when they were on a mission, they could go their own ways,” she said. 

Steve read the paper and nodded.

“And no one noticed?” He asked after a moment. Phil and Maria shared a glance. 

“We suspected that they had lots of skeletons in their closet,” Phil said then. “But we couldn’t prove it and STRIKE is not known for their openness to other divisions. They’re usually as thick as thieves.” 

“And that’s why we think that there are more of them. We just… we can’t prove it. Yet.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why Hawkeye killed all of them,” Steve said. 

“I hate to say this,” Maria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “but our analysts checked all of his ‘jobs’,” she said with air-quotes. “It’s known that he’s good enough to pick the jobs he takes and… it seems he’s killing only the really bad guys.” 

“What? Are you telling me he’s some kind of Robin Hood?” Steve blurted and Phil and Maria shared another glance.

“No, he’s a criminal who takes the law in his own hands. But, he took many bad guys off of the streets and that’s why you have the orders to arrest him and not to kill him,” Phil said. “Director Fury wants to talk to him.” 

“Bucky and Sam are still on his heels,” Maria added.

“What can I do?” Steve asked.

“You?” Coulson smiled. “You stay at home for a few weeks to heal.” 

“A few weeks?” Steve blurted. “But the serum…” 

“The doctor had to give you something to slow down the healing to stabilize your ankle. If it heals too fast it won’t be stable enough,” Phil said. “Bucky and Sam will manage all right.” 

“But…” Steve started again, but now it was Maria, who interrupted him. 

“If you get bored, you can catch up on your paperwork,” she said. “It… lacks a bit lately.” 

Steve blushed violently. He knew he let it slide a bit but the hunt for Hawkeye did take so much time, he could barely spend time with his husband and if he had to chose, he would always pick Clint over paperwork. 

Speaking of the devil, just as he thought about him, someone knocked at the door. 

“Enter,” Phil said and the door went open. Two men stood outside, one a young SHIELD agent and the other one was a few years older with spiky, dirty blond hair. 

“Oh my god, Steve!” he blurted as soon as he saw him, shoved the junior agent out of the way and hurried over to him. The young agent tried to grab his arm but Phil shook his head.

“He insisted to see him, sir,” he said. 

Phil smiled and the junior agent paled a bit. “It’s okay, Agent Rand,” he said. “We called him, he’s Agent Rogers’ husband.” 

“What the futz happened?” Clint asked as soon as he saw the cast around his ankle and the abrasions in his face. “Is he okay?” he turned to Phil.

“It’s just a broken ankle and a few bruises,” Steve said and only when Phil nodded he turned back to him. 

“I’d ask how that happened but I know better by now,” he muttered. 

“It was an accident,” Steve said lamely and Clint raised a brow. 

“Uh huh,” he said. 

“He’s on leave for at least four weeks, Mr. Barton-Rogers,” Phil said. “And I assume that you can make him stay at home, right?” 

“Definitely,” Clint said. 

“If he gets bored, he can do his paperwork,” Maria grinned now. She turned to the junior agent, who still stood in the doorway and shifted from one foot to the other, “Tell Agents Barnes and Wilson to pack up Agent Rogers’ paperwork and bring it to the truck outside of the building. You still have it, I assume?” The last sentence was directed at Clint and he nodded. 

“Sure,” he said. “And don’t worry, Agent Coulson, I take good care of him… and I ensure that he does his homework,” he added grinning. The young agent left the room with a smile in Steve’s direction.

“Oh god, I’m doomed,” Steve muttered. 

“Anything I need to know?” Clint asked and Coulson shook his head. 

“No, he just has to take his medicine and when the cast is off he has to go to physiotherapy thrice a week,” he said. 

“Hey, I’m still here,” Steve complained. 

“I know, baby,” Clint turned to him and patted his leg. Steve winced. 

Coulson handed the crutches beside the door to Steve and Clint helped him up. 

“Let’s get you home,” Clint said and Steve nodded. Together they walked to the exit and Steve saw Sam and Bucky standing grinning beside Clint’s tattered blue Ford Ranger. 

“One time we let you go on your own and now look at you,” Sam said. Bucky held his arms folded over his chest and shook his head. 

“Next time we come with you again,” he said. 

“You had your own mission,” Steve grouched. “And I’m more than capable to do my job on my own.” 

“Uh huh,” Sam said and looked pointedly at Steve’s cast. 

“It was an accident,” Steve said. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded earnestly. “You keep telling yourself.” 

“Come on, guys,” Clint said now, “be nice. He’s had a bad day.” 

“Okay,” Sam sighed theatrically. “For now.” 

“Come on, get in the truck,” Clint led him to the passenger’s door. “Could one of you bring his bike home?” He turned to Bucky and Sam.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “I’ll bring it.” 

“Thanks,” Clint smiled. “I’m going to make Irish Stew this afternoon.” 

“Well, Buck,” Sam drawled, “someone needs to fetch you and bring you home.” Clint knew how much all three of them loved his food and couldn’t hold back a grin.

“All right,” Clint grinned. “See you this afternoon.”

***

“It’s itching!” Steve huffed and tore his hair. “It’s itching and I can’t scratch it and it drives me up the wall!”

“Of course it’s itching,” Clint sighed. “It’s healing.” He handed Steve a long knitting needle. Steve looked at it for a moment before he carefully shoved it inside of the cast and started to move it.

“Oh god!” Steve sighed. “That’s better than an orgasm.” 

Clint raised a brow. “I guess we’re doing it wrong then?” 

“You know what I mean,” Steve said and leaned back. 

“I know,” Clint said flopped down beside him. He kissed Steve and smiled. “Better now?” 

“Way better!” Steve sighed.

“I don’t want to go,” Clint said. He looked at Steve and put his head on his hand. 

“But you have to go,” Steve said and reached over to stroke Clint’s cheek. “This job, it’s too profitable to let it go.” 

“It’s just a renovation,” Clint said and cast his eyes down. “Someone else can do it. Or… or it can wait. I don’t want to leave you for so long” 

“Clint,” Steve put his finger under Clint’s chin and moved it so that he had to look at him. “If I need help I can call Bucky or Sam. You prepared enough food for three weeks and I know how to use the microwave. And you said this job is done in a week, so… I’m good.” 

“Promise to call Bucky or Sam if you need help,” Clint said. “And don’t forget to take your meds. And…” 

“It’s okay, Clint,” Steve interrupted him with a laugh. “I’ll manage.” 

“Okay,” Clint said and let his hand run over Steve’s chest. “I’m just worried, you know.” 

“I know, but you don’t have to,” Steve said. “It’s not the first time I got hurt on duty and it won’t be the last time.” 

Clint took a deep breath and looked at him for a very long moment before he nodded. 

“I know,” he whispered then. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“Hey,” Steve said quietly. “When you’re back the cast is off and then it’s getting better.” 

“And then you’re back hunting this killer,” Clint said. 

“He’s a killer for hire and someone has to take him off the streets,” Steve shrugged.

“But why you? Why not Bucky or Sam?” 

“Because it’s my mission,” Steve said. 

“He’s dangerous,” Clint said. “He hurt you.” 

“I hurt myself,” Steve admitted. “If I didn’t try to follow him… it was my own fault.” 

“I don’t want to go” Clint said again. 

“Okay, you go and do your job and I promise to sit here, prop up my leg and be good,” Steve said. 

“If… if I go the extra mile I think I can finish it in five days,” Clint said. Steve leaned down to kiss him again. 

“It’s going to be okay, babe,” he smiled. 

“Okay,” Clint nodded and put his head on Steve’s chest again. He stroked his abdomen through his shirt and just enjoyed the warmth of his body. “I love you, you know that?” 

“Yes,” Steve said. “I know. And I love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You know, it’s not the way I usually do business,” Clint said and sat down opposite of the man. He usually didn’t meet his clients in person. His bodyguards had frisked him before they accompanied him into the bar but they missed a few of his knifes and inwardly he rolled his eyes. If he wanted to he could kill the man without anyone here noticing. 

The man nodded and then he gestured at his bodyguards to get out of earshot. He wanted to talk to him alone. After all, one doesn’t always hire an assassin to kill someone every day. And then you definitely don’t want to have witnesses. 

“I know,” the man said. “But in this case it’s necessary.” 

“We’ll see,” Clint smiled and he could see the older man swallow. He scrutinized him, the thinning hairline, the expensive suit, the well-manicured nails. “What do you have for me?” 

The man nodded again and wanted to reach in his jacket. Clint grabbed the man’s wrist. “Slowly,” he growled. 

“Okay,” the man said and moved very, very slow, took out an envelope and shoved it over the table to Clint. He raised a brow, but he took it, opened it and then he stared at the picture for a very long moment. 

“You want me to kill Tony Stark?” he asked and looked up. 

“Yes,” the man hissed and Clint could see a vein twitch at his temple. He looked at the picture again, at a man, grinning and waving at the camera but he also saw, that the grin didn’t reach his eyes. “He deserves a slow and painful death, but apparently an arrow through his eye is what you do. As long as he’s dead afterwards, I’m…” 

Clint raised a hand and stopped him. “To quote Hamlet, act three, scene three, line 87,” he said, leaned back and cocked his head. “No.” 

“Excuse me?” The man blurted and leaned forward. 

“Did I stutter? I said no, I won’t do it,” he said and shoved the picture back to the man. 

“I pay you!” He hissed. “You do what I want and…” 

“Yeah, no,” Clint interrupted him. He moved his chair back and wanted to rise when the guy grabbed his arm to hold him back. Clint moved on instinct, he put his arm over the guys, took his hand, then his thumb and twisted him around painfully. The man yelped and tried to rise but he realized if he would do that, he’d dislocate his shoulder. The bodyguards came over, wanted to attack Clint but he moved the man’s arm and he winced in pain. He raised his free hand and stopped the bodyguards while the other patrons in the bar turned to look at them. 

“It’s… okay,” the man said and the bodyguards stepped back. 

“Do not! Ever! Touch! Me! Again!” Clint said slowly. He pronounced every word very carefully to make his point. “Do you understand me?” 

“Yes, yes,” he yelped, “I understand. And I won’t do it again.” 

“Okay,” Clint sat down again and looked at the man. “But that still doesn’t change my mind. I won’t do it no matter how many money you offer me.” 

“But that’s your job. You’re an assassin and that’s what you do.” 

“Yes, that’s what I do. But I don’t kill people who don’t deserve to die,” Clint said. “Yes, Stark may be an asshole but he definitely doesn’t deserve to die.” 

“And you’re predestined to decide that?” The man sneered. Clint smiled and the guy swallowed again. Yes, Clint knew Tony Stark, yes, he was still jealous when Steve had to work with him and yes, he and Steve were invited to more than one of Tony’s legendary parties but he wouldn’t tell the man, he didn’t need to know. Yes, Clint was more than jealous of Tony at first but he trusted his husband. When Steve said Tony’s a good man then he was a good man. 

“It’s none of your business,” Clint said and rose again. “And I still won’t do it.” 

“Is this your last word?” The man asked and Clint nodded slowly. 

“Yes, this is my last word,” he said. 

“You will regret that! And I…” He hissed but once again Clint interrupted him. He put both his hands on the table and glared at the man.

“You know what I do for a living and you think it’s a good idea to threaten me? Seriously?” The man shut his mouth and he paled. “Good that we’re on the same page.” 

Clint went to the bar, bought a coke, gave the barkeeper a really generous tip and left the bar after emptying it. On his way to his bike he took out his phone and dialed a number. 

“Hey, Ashwath,” he said as soon as he heard the click. “I need to call in a chip. Could you let SHIELD know that someone put a hit on Tony Stark?” 

The man on the other end didn’t say a word, he just quit the call but Clint knew that Ashwath would do it.

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Clint called as soon as he had opened the door. He let his bag drop beside the door and looked around. Steve wasn’t in the living room and when he went to the kitchen, he wasn’t there either. “Steve?”

He heard a thudding noise from the bathroom and then Steve appeared in the door, dripping wet, a towel around his hips and a plastic bag over his cast, on one of his crutches. “Clint?” 

“Yes,” he said, “that’s my name.” 

“What are you doing here?” Steve blurted and tried to hold the towel in position. Clint went over to him, tugged at it and let it drop to the floor. 

“I live here, honey,” he cooed and let his hand run over Steve’s stomach and down to his twitching dick. “Happy to see me?” he asked and Steve blushed violently. 

“I… uh…” he started but Clint shut him with a kiss. He didn’t care that he got wet, he was just happy to see his husband. 

“I missed you,” Clint said and rubbed himself against Steve’s dick, felt it twitch between their bodies. 

“You said you’re gone for a week and… and only two days later you’re back?” Steve asked and then moaned when Clint moved his hips against his dick. 

“Disappointed?” Clint asked with a grin. “Need to cancel your dates with the backdoor man?” 

“Ahh…” Steve squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around Clint, kissed his neck. 

“No backdoor man,” he moaned. “Only you.” 

“Oh yes,” Clint nibbed at his ear, let his hand wander over his back and to his ass but he didn’t stop moving his hips against Steve’s. 

“Oh fuck,” Steve hissed and Clint started to move him backwards, careful with the cast, and back into the shower. He removed his shirt and slid out of shoes and pants and followed Steve, turned on the water again and sighed when the hot water hit his skin. Steve was rock hard and wrapped his arms around Clint again. He kissed him, touched his lips with his tongue and then Clint’s tongue. 

“I missed you,” Clint mumbled, kissed Steve’s jawline, his throat and then his shoulder. 

“Missed you, too,” Steve murmured and groaned, when Clint’s dick rubbed along his own. He reached down and wrapped his hand around both their cocks and now Clint threw his head back, exposed his throat and moaned. Steve let his hand run along their lengths and the friction was so intense, he shuddered in Steve’s grip. 

“Fuck!” he blurted and only a few strokes later Steve came, and Clint followed him over the edge with a hoarse scream. They both panted for a few moments before Clint laughed happily, leaned up and kissed Steve again. They started to clean each other and - wearing only bathrobes - went to the living room together. Steve put his crutches down and flopped on the couch and Clint snuggled up to him. 

“Not that I want to complain,” he started, “but didn’t you say the job will take a week?” 

“Irreconcilable differences with the client,” Clint said. “So I packed up and drove home.” 

“What kind of differences?” Steve asked and Clint sighed. 

“He wanted me to use second-hand beams for the roof and they didn’t look very good and I said I can’t use them, they are dangerous, so he threatened me,” Clint said. “And here I am now.” 

“He threatened you?” Steve furrowed his brows. 

“He said he would tell all my clients that I’m unreliable,” Clint sighed. “So I told him I would tell all my colleagues that he wanted me to work with junk, so he would never find a craftsman ever again. People tattle, you know,” he smirked. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” Steve said and kissed Clint’s temple. 

“Yeah, me too,” Clint sighed. “And hey, I have a few days off now.” 

“Really? And I have a few ideas what we can do,” Steve grinned. 

“Yeah? Something fun?” 

“Oh, definitely fun, because… you don’t have to go to work, I don’t have to go to work, we have enough food for three weeks and a really, really comfortable bed,” Steve said smirking. 

“I like the way you’re thinking,” Clint said and kissed Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve’s super soldier serum enhanced body healed faster than ordinary humans, even if the doctors slowed down the fast healing process. Two weeks after his injury the cast came off. But to be fit for duty again he had to go to physiotherapy.

“That’s not a problem, babe,” Clint huffed. “I can drive you, go to the final inspection and be back when you finished.” 

“But Sam said…” Steve tried to reason. Clint raised a brow.

“Do you really prefer Sam to drive you to your therapy?” He asked and now Steve blushed violently.

“No, of course not. But he has a day off today and you work on the other side of the city, so…” 

“I said it’s not a problem,” Clint sighed. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve raised both hands in a defensive gesture. “I don’t want to fight with you. If you say it’s no problem, then it’s no problem.” 

Clint’s face lit up and he pressed a quick kiss on Steve’s cheek. “And I just want to check that your therapist is an old, ugly hag and not a hot dude in tight tights.” 

“You’re impossible,” Steve laughed. 

“I know,” Clint grinned. He took both plates from the table and brought them to the sink, fetched the empty mugs, too, and then filled the rest of the coffee from the pot in his travel mug. “Ready?” 

“Yes, mom,” Steve sighed and rose. 

“Don’t call me mom or this is going to be weird,” Clint smiled and went to him to kiss him, this time on his lips. 

Together they left their house, Steve still with crutches, and he climbed in Clint’s Ford. He threw his sports bag onto the truck bed, beside the metal box where Clint kept his tools in. 

Clint started the engine and drove off and a few minutes later he stopped in front of a building. He opened his door and went to the passenger’s seat to help Steve leave the truck.

“See you later,” Clint said, when he had brought Steve to the door where the therapist, a middle aged man with receding hairline, waited for him. 

“You don’t have to…” Steve started again, but when Clint raised a brow, he pretended to lock his mouth and gave him the imaginary key. 

“Two hours?” Clint asked and the therapist smirked and nodded. 

“Yes, sir,” he said. “If he wants to go back to work in two weeks, he needs to do something for it.” 

“Right,” Clint sighed. “I’ll be back in two hours.” He waited till Steve went in with the therapist before he went back to his truck, opened the glovebox and took out the envelope, looked at the picture and the address again. It wasn’t too far away. Yes, Clint had a job, but it wasn’t the final inspection of a renovated house. 

He merged back in the traffic and sixteen minutes later he stood in front of a fifteen stories tall building. He wore a work overall and took his toolbox and the forged contract confirmation, went to the door, and rang. The concierge let him in and he showed him the paper, the man read it and nodded. When he gave it back to Clint he pointed at the elevator and Clint rode up to the twelfth floor. 

He looked for apartment number seven, found it, put on his mask and knocked at the door. A middle aged man with a thick beard and friendly eyes opened the door. 

“Can I help you?” he asked smiling and Clint felt sick. He made a step in the man’s direction and before he could complain Clint bodychecked him and he was inside of the apartment. And just to be sure, he punched him in the face and the guy landed on the floor.

“Are you out of your mind?” he snarled now and glared up at Clint. 

“Travis Schweizer?” he asked. It wasn’t necessary, he knew it was the man from the picture, but he wanted the guy to know, that this was no mistake. 

“Yes,” he snapped. “Who are you?” 

“There’s something we should talk about,” Clint said. He had prepared everything, but he didn’t bargain for Schweizer’s desperation. Before he became a teacher, the man was an army ranger and honorably discharged because he lost an eye in his duty. But apparently the artificial eye didn’t hinder him too much and he forgot nothing from his training. He came to his feet in a fluid motion, punched Clint in his face and ran out of the door. 

“Dammit,” Clint cursed, tore open his toolbox, grabbed the folded bow and a handful of arrows, unfolded it with a move with his hand and followed the man. He saw him run to the stairs but before he could go downstairs an arrow landed in front of his feet and so he ran upstairs instead. 

Clint didn’t run. He didn’t need to. He followed him all the way up to the roof. Schweizer ran to the balustrade and stared down at the street. And when he heard Clint behind him, he spun around. 

“Wha…” he blurted when he saw the nocked arrow aimed at him. 

“I’d suggest you don’t move,” Clint said. 

“Who are you? And what do you want from me?” Schweizer asked. 

“Travis Schweizer,” Clint said, “you’re a teacher at Aaron Cross Elementary School. And you’re a pedophile.” 

“What?” the man squeaked. “No! No, you’re…” 

“Unfortunately - for you - you touched the wrong child. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you,” Clint said. 

Schweizer stared at the arrow that pointed in his direction and made a few steps back until his knees hit the balustrade again. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you,” Clint said. “That would be too easy for you.” 

Schweizer looked over his shoulder at the ground, fifteen floors below and licked his lips nervously. 

“Please, Mister, don’t kill me,” he pleaded. Clint frowned and cocked his head. 

“Are you stupid? What did I just say?” He asked and the man licked his lips again. 

“That… that you’re not going to kill me?” He stammered. 

“That’s right,” Clint said, moved his arm and shot an arrow at the man’s foot. It literally nailed him to the roof and he started to scream but didn’t dare to move.

“You… you said you wouldn’t shoot me,” Schweizer whined. 

“I said I wouldn’t kill you,” Clint shrugged, took another arrow and nocked it. “That’s a difference.” Clint aimed, shot and nailed the man’s hand to the balustrade. 

“I’ve never done anything to you,” Schweizer sobbed. Fat tears ran over his face. 

Clint put his bow down and sat down on the balustrade beside him. “That’s true,” he said conversationally. “But I know what you’ve done to the children you’re responsible for. You’re a teacher! It’s your job to teach kids, to inspire them, to encourage them,” he spat in his face. “Not to force them to suck this shriveled excuse for a dick you call your own!” 

“Please,” the man sobbed. “Please, let me go. I have money!” 

“I already have an employer. You touched the wrong boy, and see, his father wanted me to kill you, but I could convince him that my idea is better,” he said and touched the arrow through the man’s hand. He yelped again and cried even more. “I’ve been in jail when I was younger and there’s one thing all inmates hate like poison, and that’s child molesters. If you ever touched a child or even looked at it in a funny way, you’re going to have a really, really rough time in jail. And see, my employer agreed that it’s better to let the cops do the job. So, instead of killing you, I spent the last weeks to collect evidence,” he said and reached into the pocket of his overall, took out a flash drive and placed it on the balustrade, out of Schweizer’s reach. 

“Okay,” the man whined. “Call the cops. Or better, I turn myself in,” he cried. In the distance he could hear the sirens and with a smile he rose.

“Oh, don’t worry, I already called them and here’s my signal to leave,” he folded his bow and turned around again. “Don’t forget, I still have an arrow with your name on it. If you do anything dumb you’ll see me again. When the cops arrive, you let them arrest you, you tell them everything you’ve done. Got me?” 

“Yes! Yes!” Schweizer whined. Clint jogged back in the house, removed his mask, went to the man’s apartment, where his toolbox was and he put his bow in, went to the elevator and rode to the first floor. He nodded at the concierge and went to the door. Outside he saw police cars arrive and cops ran to the door. Clint opened and held the door for them while they hurried to the concierge. He let out a breath, when he went to his truck and put the toolbox back on the bed, climbed behind the wheel. 

He took a clipboard, pretended to fill out some forms but he watched the cops, saw them a few minutes later with Schweizer. They dragged him to their car and shoved him - still bleeding - onto the backseat. 

Clint smirked, put his clipboard away and started the engine. He looked at his watch. Twenty-five minutes to get Steve. The traffic wasn’t too heavy and so Clint could stop to buy a coffee for himself and for Steve and just when he arrived, he saw his husband coming out of the entrance, looking around. He saw his truck in an instant and came over. 

“Hey, babe,” he smiled when he climbed in the truck and threw his bag in the footwell. He leaned over to Clint to kiss him and smiled, when he smelled the coffee. 

“Hey,” Clint smiled, too. “How was your therapy?” 

“Straining,” Steve admitted. Clint took one of the paper cups and gave it to Steve.

“Thanks,” he sighed and took a long sip. “You’re my lifesaver!” he smirked. 

“You know what? I’m done with the renovation and have the weekend off and you’re done with your homework,” Clint said. 

“Uh huh,” Steve said and looked at him now. 

“What do you think, we could go away on a trip?” He said. 

“Actually, that’s a really good idea,” Steve said. “Tony has a beach house in the Hamptons and he offered it to me a few times. I guess if we ask, we…” 

“No,” Clint interrupted his rambling. “Sorry, but… nothing against Tony, but… the Hamptons? Between all the rich and super-rich and…” he stopped when Steve reached over and took his hand. 

“I know, not really your style. I just thought because you like swimming and it’s not far away from the beach… or we could go fishing and all that,” Steve said. 

They had to stop at a traffic light and Clint looked at Steve for a long moment. He seemed really excited from the idea. Since Stark became a consultant for SHIELD he and Steve became friends. Clint was more than jealous at first because how could he compete with Tony Stark? But Tony had Pepper and when the two invited Steve and him to their house for the first time he discovered, that he really liked the billionaire. And Tony bluntly told him that he wasn’t interested in Steve at all, that he liked him as a friend but nothing more. Apparently the man was more observant than people gave him credit for. 

“Do you want to go there?” Clint asked and Steve shrugged. The light turned green and he concentrated on the traffic again but out of the corner of his eye he could still see him. 

“Tony often talks about his house and Pepper is excited, too, and so…” he shrugged again. 

“Okay, ask him,” Clint said. Steve’s face lit up and he reached for his phone to send a quick text to Tony. 

“You’ll like it,” he said then. 

“And if all the rich guys go on my nerves we can stay in bed the whole weekend,” Clint said and winked and Steve - despite being married for years - blushed. But he got saved from his phone. It beeped and Steve looked at it. 

“He said we can have it. He’s going to call the caretaker to let us in,” he said. 

“You know, I really look forward to it,” Clint smiled and squeezed Steve’s hand. To spend a whole weekend at the beach with the man he loved? What could be better?

***

“Wow!” Clint said when he stopped Steve’s Viper in front of the gate. Steve had said Tony had a _house_ but this was literally a palace. “Did you know that?”

“No,” Steve said and shook his head. He, too, stared open-mouthed at the mansion. A huge fence was around it and they had to ring at the gate. 

“Yes?” Someone - probably the caretaker - asked and Clint told him their names. A moment later the gate opened and Clint drove up to the entrance door. 

“Jesus F. Christ!” He said when he got out of the car and looked at the house. 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded.

An older woman appeared in the door and came over to them smiling. 

“Hello, you must be the Rogers’,” she said and shook their hands. “I’m Rebecca Till.” 

“Hi,” Clint smiled and wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist. 

“Come in,” Mrs. Till said and gestured at the door. “We made coffee and my husband will show you around.” 

“Thank you,” Steve said and followed her into the huge house. She led them into a kitchen where they could smell freshly brewed coffee. A man, maybe a few years older than Mrs. Till, poured coffee in mugs and smiled, when they came in. 

“Welcome,” he said and handed both of them a mug. 

The Till’s were nice people and while Mrs. Till showed Steve the guest bedroom Mr. Till helped Clint to carry in the bags. The house was awesome and - aside from the master bedroom - they could go everywhere. When Mr. Till told them that the beach below the mansion was a private beach Clint’s jaw dropped. There was a boat house with a boat they could use if they wanted to go fishing and Mr. Till gave him the keys. 

And then they left them. 

“Oh my god,” Clint breathed as soon as he was with Steve in the spacious living room. It was bigger as the apartment in Bed Stuy, where Clint lived before he met Steve. 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. He just thought the same. 

“You know…” Clint said and turned to face him. “It’s a private beach. No one can get there. Wanna go skinny dipping?” he grinned and waggled his brows. The tips of Steve’s ears turned red but he followed Clint out onto the deck. “And the weather is awesome, too,” Clint added. 

He took Steve’s hand and led him down to the beach and - with a wink - slipped out of his clothes, ran into the water and dove in. It was awesome. Not too cold and not a soul in sight. 

“Come on, babe,” Clint called and wiped his wet hair out of his face. Steve looked at him for a long moment before he nodded and undressed as well. He walked slowly over to Clint, enjoyed the cool water on his naked skin and Clint took his hand and pulled him in a long, heated kiss as soon as he was close enough. 

He let his hand roam over Steve’s back and down to his naked ass, squeezed it and could feel Steve’s dick twitch at his leg. 

“Oh god, this is wrong in so many ways,” Steve mumbled and Clint laughed quietly in his ear. 

“Sometimes I think you’re from the forties,” he chuckled. “The Tills are gone and no one’s here but me.” 

Steve kissed Clint’s neck and moved his hips. His dick touched Clint’s now and he started to move, to rub along him and Clint felt his blood reroute to lower body parts. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. He still massaged Steve’s ass, let his finger run between his cheeks and felt Steve’s cock twitch violently when he dipped in. 

Steve looked over his shoulder but they were alone and so he sank down to his knees, his head barely out of the water, but he looked up, smirked, and licked over Clint’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, when Steve wrapped his lips around it and his hands around his balls. He saw the smirk on his lips and felt his tongue dip in his slit. “Fuuuck!” 

Steve moved his head, took him in completely and used his tongue to massage the underside of his cock when he moved back. His left hand still rolled his balls while his right hand held his hip. Clint ran his hands through Steve’s hair, scratched his scalp and threw his own head back. It was so awesome what he could do with his tongue. But just before he reached the point of no return Steve stopped. 

“Shit!” Clint cursed. He still moved his hips but to no avail. “Shit!” 

Steve rose, a smirk on his reddened lips. He pulled Clint close and kissed him before he whispered in his ear, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Clint’s dick twitched again in anticipation. He kissed Steve hard and let his hands run down to his ass, spread his cheeks and ran his hand through his cleft. Steve moaned against his ear when he ran his finger over his pucker, massaged it and penetrated it with his finger. 

“Stop stalling,” he whispered hoarsely and nibbled on Clint’s neck. Clint kissed him hard, and let his hands run along Steve’s sides and when they parted, he turned him around, went down on his knees - the water tickling his chin - spread Steve’s cheeks and licked his entrance. He lapped at it and worked it open with his tongue. 

“Yessss,” Steve moaned and let his hand run along his dick, stroked it and flicked his thumb over the head. “Please, Clint,” he whined. Clint rose, stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Steve’s neck, while his finger already penetrated him. 

“More!” Steve breathed. 

“Needy, love?” Clint chuckled but he let his hand run over his dick a few times before he positioned it against Steve’s hole. He grabbed his waist and moved his hip, slowly. Steve moaned deep and hoarsely till Clint’s body touched his back and he was in balls deep. He let his hands run over Steve’s chest, twirled and tweaked his nipples while Steve let his head drop back against Clint’s shoulder. He turned his head and searched with his lips for Clint’s, they kissed and then Clint started to move. Slow, rhythmical, hard and deep. His balls slapped against Steve’s and he held his waist with one hand while he still worked on his nipples. 

“Shit!” Steve cursed when Clint hit his prostate, again and again and he spread his legs even more, jerked his rock hard cock relentless and then he came. He groaned and squeezed his ass cheeks and the added friction shoved Clint over the edge, too. With both hands he grabbed Steve’s hips, held onto them and shot his load in his body, bred him, while Steve’s jizz ran over his own hands. 

“Fuck!” he moaned and kissed Steve’s neck. He stroked Steve’s chest and just held him. 

Steve moved around and Clint’s cock slid out of his channel. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Clint. 

“I love you, Mr. Barton-Rogers,” he whispered in Clint’s ear. 

“I love you, too, Mr. Rogers,” Clint chuckled. Their foreheads touched and they both held onto each other for a long moment. 

“Wanna swim?” Clint asked after a while and Steve nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”


	4. Chapter 4

Clint let the bags drop onto the floor and flopped on the couch. “Home, sweet home,” he grinned and put his feet on the coffee table. Steve, who followed him, grabbed his feet and shoved them back on the floor. Clint rolled his eyes but smiled gently at his husband. Steve sat down beside him and Clint moved, put his head on his shoulder and Steve put his arm around him. 

“Thank you,” Clint said and sighed contently. Steve turned to look at him. 

“What for?” he asked and Clint put his hand on Steve’s. 

“For being the most awesome husband ever,” he said. “It was a good idea to ask Stark for his house.” He looked up at Steve. “And the beds are really great.” 

Steve blushed again, but he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. A few days just us, no friends, no colleagues, we should do this more often.” 

“I’d like that. And maybe we can find out how to cook a fish so that it’s edible,” Clint added. Steve laughed. 

“Yeah, that,” he shook his head, still grinning. They had spent half the Saturday on Tony’s boat and Steve had actually managed to catch a fish. It was big enough for two people and they killed and gilled it, but when they tried to grill it, they realized they had forgotten to remove the scales and it was too dry afterwards. They had eaten it nevertheless because they were hungry and they had caught the damn fish themselves. 

“Unfortunately,” Clint sighed, “I have to go back to work tomorrow.” 

“Unfortunately,” Steve said. “And I have to go to therapy,” he added then. 

“I know,” Clint nodded. “Bucky offered to bring you. I have to be in Boston for the next few days.” 

“I miss you already,” he whispered. Clint caressed his arm. 

“I know,” he said quietly. And this time it wasn’t even a lie, he really had a job as carpenter and a family hired him to fit out the attic above their garage to build a loft for their son. 

“What do you think, Thai take-out and Breaking Bad?” Steve suggested and Clint nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good idea. I order the food and you can get the DVD.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Steve smirked and sloppily saluted. Clint slapped his arm, rose and went to order food. 

Their food arrived when the first episode was over and Clint fetched it, payed, brought it in the living room and went to the kitchen to get plates, cutlery and two bottles of beer. They ate in silence, watched another episode and then Steve yawned. 

“Bed?” Clint asked and Steve nodded. 

“Yeah, good idea,” he said. They both brought their plates in the kitchen, put them in the dishwasher and went to the bedroom. Steve went to the bathroom and Clint undressed and lay down. He stared at the closed door and sighed. He hated it that he had to constantly lie to the man he loved. But he couldn’t tell him who he really was, what he did and why he did it. He had never told him what happened twenty-eight years ago in the orphanage and why he hated child-molesters so much. And why he killed them. 

Steve came back, smiled at him and he smiled, too. Only in his boxers he climbed in the bed and lay down beside Clint. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. Clint turned his head and looked at him. He leaned over, put his hand on Steve’s cheek and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around him and inhaled his scent. God, he loved how Steve smelled, like sunshine and puppies and happiness. 

“You know that I love you, right?” he whispered. He held onto Steve and just enjoyed to lie in his arms. 

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked and looked at him. Clint sighed and let his hand run over Steve’s back. 

“Why? Can’t I tell my husband that I love him?” he asked with a smile. 

“You can tell him as often as you want,” Steve chuckled. “But… I don’t know… you sound… sad?” 

“No,” Clint said. “It’s… your job, you know. When you’re out there, in the field, hunting those evil guys… something can happen and… I don’t know…” 

“It’s okay,” he said. “Nothing will happen to me. Sam and Bucky are with me and they keep an eye on me and… you know… I’m invincible,” he added with a smile. Clint moved his hand to the scar he had on his shoulder and kissed it. 

“I know,” he whispered. 

“Clint, look at me,” Steve said. “I love you, you know that. Whatever will happen, I love you.” He caressed Clint’s back and kissed his forehead. 

And Clint hoped, he really hoped, that it was true.

***

“Goddammit!” Clint cursed and wiped the rain-wet hair out of his face. He pressed a hand on his thigh and hissed. He hid inside of a dumpster and searched for something to tie around his leg. He removed the leg strap from his gun holster and tied it around his other leg as tight as possible. It hurt and he winced.

This afternoon he had had a job, the assassination of a guy, who bought young women in the poorest countries all over the world, brought them to the United States and sold them here. Most of them _just_ had to go hustling, but a few were sold to be tortured by perverts and some of them were bought for their organs. They were bought by heinous _doctors_ so they could cut out their kidneys and livers and lungs and hearts and sell them to rich people, who needed _donated_ organs. This wasn’t a job he got payed for. His contact Ashwath had called him, had told him about it and Clint had agreed to take care of the bastard. 

It wasn’t too difficult for a professional like Clint but apparently SHIELD was after the guy, too. Steve’s colleagues Sam and Bucky were there just when he could finally shoot the man. He usually shot an arrow through the eye socket. It was a fast and almost painless death but in this case he shot the arrow through his throat. He wouldn’t die immediately but drown on his own blood. The rain helped him because most of the SHIELD agents couldn’t see him on the roof opposite of the guy’s _office_ in an old warehouse. 

But Bucky was a sniper and he _had_ seen him. And he shot at him. Apparently they wanted him alive and so he shot in his leg. Fortunately Clint wasn’t too close and so he could hide in a side alley and he thanked whatever deity was willing to listen for the rain. It would wash away the bloodtrail. When he had heard the SHIELD agents he jumped in the dumpster and hoped, that they wouldn’t look in it. 

The wound in his leg still bled and the waste stank like hell. And it wasn’t exactly germ-free so he hoped he wouldn’t get an infection. 

He could only hear the rain, no agents running and searching for him. He reached in his pocket, took out the prepaid phone and dialed a number from memory. He had to wait only a few seconds, then he heard a female voice. 

“Да.” 

“Hey… uh… Nat,” he said and could hear a sigh. 

“What do you need?” she asked. 

“A pick-up service,” he whispered. “I have a hole in my leg and sit in a dumpster.” 

“Where are you?” Nat sighed and Clint gave her the address. 

“Be careful, SHIELD might still be there,” he added. Nat sighed again and ended the call. 

The next forty minutes Clint didn’t dare to make a noise or to move. His leg bled, he felt dizzy and his foot was numb. He was in pain and cursed himself for his carelessness. He had his gun in his hand, just in case SHIELD would find him. But when the dumpster got opened he almost reacted too slow. He raised the gun but Nat had already grabbed it and disassembled it in just a second while he still had it in hand. 

“What the fuck, Barton!” she snapped as soon as she saw the state he was in. 

“Hey, Nat,” he tried a smile but winced in pain instead. 

“I had to wait a few minutes, your shadows are still in the area,” she said and reached in to help him out of the dumpster. “Oh god, you stink!” She waved her hand in front of her nose. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Natasha led him to a new Mercedes AMG C63 in silver. When she opened the passenger’s door he saw that she had put blankets on the seats and the floor. 

“Hey, I have it for three months! I don’t want bloodstains on the seats,” she said when she saw his glance. “Your smell is bad enough for my baby.” 

“Your concern is heartwarming,” Clint snarked but he let her help him in the car. Nat went back to get his bow, threw it in the trunk and Clint winced inwardly but he kept his mouth shut. She went around and climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and carefully drove away. She had a prepaid phone in her hands-free-set and dialed a number. 

“Hey, Bruce,” she said as soon as a male voice answered. “I need your help. Your special service.” 

“Uh… okay… you know where to find me,” the man said and ended the call. 

“Who was that?” Clint asked and Nat shrugged. 

“Someone I know… someone who… someone who helped me a few times,” she said. Clint looked at her and despite the pain a grin appeared on his face. 

“You like him!” he said. 

“No, it’s… it’s not like that,” Nat said. She had to stop at a traffic light and looked at him for a moment. 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “You keep telling yourself.” 

“He’s a nice guy,” Nat said. 

“And what’s with ‘love is for children’?” He asked. 

“Shut up,” Nat grouched and steered her car in an underground garage, parked and went around to help Clint out of it. “That doesn’t look good,” she said when she saw the bleeding wound.” 

“No shit, Sherlock?” 

“Come on, Bruce is waiting,” she said. They went to an elevator and rode upwards to the sixth floor. The building was old but clean and she cursed in Russian the whole way to apartment eleven. She didn’t need to knock, the door went open just when they arrived and a curly haired man with glasses waited for them. 

“I hope no one saw you,” he said and looked out in the corridor. “Get him in and then you have to wipe away the blood,” he said to Natasha. 

“Hello to you, too, Bruce. Clint, that’s Bruce,” she introduced them, “Bruce, Clint.” 

Together they brought him to the kitchen, where he should sit down on the table. 

“That’s a bullet wound,” Bruce said and looked at the two of them. 

“Yeah,” Nat nodded. “That’s why I asked you and not a doctor in a hospital.” 

“You know I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce asked, removed his glasses, cleaned them and put them back on. But he went to one of the cupboards, took scissors out of it and went to Clint. When he sat up straight and winced Bruce looked at Natasha. She nodded. 

“It’s okay, Clint,” she said. Bruce waited another second till Clint nodded, too. He cut open the pants, told Clint to lie on his belly till he could see the hole in the back of his thigh. 

“The bullet is still in,” Bruce said. “I have to remove it and…” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Clint’s head snapped up, “He said he’s not that kind of doctor. What… what kind of doctor are you?” 

“Calm down,” Nat said and sighed. “He knows what he does,” she said and pulled up her shirt and showed him a huge scar right beside her navel. “He saved my life. And he worked as a doctor in Calcutta for years.”

“Oh yeah, that’s… I mean…” Clint started but Nat slapped his butt. He yelped. 

“Shut up and let the man do his job,” she sighed. But she nodded at Bruce. 

“I get my bag,” he said, went to the other room and a few seconds later he was back with a black leather bag. He took out a silver case and opened it. 

“Don’t worry, they are clean,” he said. He took a syringe and filled it with some liquid. 

“What is that?” Clint asked and tried to sit up. 

“It’s a local anesthesia,” Bruce said. “I can’t ream your thigh for the bullet when you twitch around.” 

“I trust him, Clint,” Nat said. Clint scrutinized both of them for a moment before he nodded. He turned around and grabbed the edge of the table when Bruce gave him the shot. The pain subsided and then he started to remove the bullet. It still hurt like a motherfucker and Clint concentrated hard to not scream and alarm the neighbors. Twenty minutes later they were done. Bruce took a new syringe and filled it with another liquid. 

“And what’s that?” Clint asked. 

“You lay in a dumpster for almost an hour and you just had a foreign object in your leg,” Bruce said. “It’s to prevent an inflammation.” 

“Oh,” Clint said. He hadn’t thought about that. Bruce put a bandage around his leg and then left the room. He came back a minute later with sweatpants. 

“Here,” he said. “You can’t leave the house in these pants.” He pointed at the remains of his black combat pants. Natasha reached in the back pocket of her jeans, pulled out a wad of cash and gave it to Bruce. 

“Thanks,” she smiled. Clint saw him smile nervously when he took the money. 

“You like him,” he grinned, when Bruce had left the room for another moment. 

“Shut your trap, Barton,” she sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

***

Natasha stopped the car in front of his house. He had showered in her apartment and she still had a few clothes for him in her closet. Steve wasn’t here, he was on a four weeks mission, the first one after his injury, but he was friends with lots of the neighbors and they would tattle.

“Wanna come in? I can give you your cash,” he said and nodded at the empty house. Nat deliberated for a few seconds, but then she killed the engine and followed him in. She looked around curiously. 

“You’ve altered the house again,” she stated. 

“Yes,” Clint grinned. “Kitchen and living room are over here now and Steve’s office on the other side,” he pointed in the directions. “He loves to draw and so he has better light when he’s back from work.” 

She followed him to the new kitchen. “You made it yourself?” She asked. 

“Sure,” Clint smirked. “We only kept the tall cupboard but Steve painted it.” 

“Why do you still do this?” She sat down on a barstool in front of the kitchen island and looked at Clint, who was busy with his high-tech coffee maker. 

“What? Rebuilding my house?” he asked. The coffee maker started to hum and a moment later he placed a cup with cappuccino in front of Natasha. 

“Don’t play dumb, Clint. You know exactly what I mean,” she said. She took the spoon and stirred a bit of sugar in the cappuccino. Clint was quiet for a long moment, just looked in his own cup and then he took a sip. 

“You know why,” he said then. They had been partners for a while and it was essentially to know the reason why they did what they did. Clint knew about the Red Room and Nat knew about the orphanage. 

“You lie to your husband every day,” she said. “He’s the one hunting you and you don’t know what will happen if he ever finds out who you really are. And can you imagine, when he’s after you and you run away and he’s shooting at you, he kills you… what do you think it will do to him?” 

“Nat…” Clint started but she shook her head. 

“You should stop, Clint. You’re an awesome carpenter. Look what you’ve built with your own hands,” she gestured at the kitchen around them. 

“I can’t,” he whispered. He put his empty mug in the sink and sat down beside her. “HYDRA is infiltrating SHIELD and I’m not sure if they notice but I have to protect Steve.” 

“SHIELD can handle that themselves, believe me,” she snorted. “And this guy you killed today, he…” 

“... kidnapped young women and sold them,” he said. He didn’t look away, held Natasha’s eyes. That was what happened to her when she was a little girl. She got sold to the Red Room. “He deserved it!” 

“Okay,” Nat nodded. “But promise me one thing,” she added then, “be careful.” 

“I always am,” he smirked and she raised a brow and looked at his thigh. 

“Oh, of course you are,” she said dryly. 

“And I always have you in case of an emergency,” he grinned. 

“You’re impossible, Barton,” she said and slapped his arm. “Come on, show me the rest of the house.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Rogers,” Steve said as soon as he had pressed the button on the phone. 

“Yeah… uh…” a male voice said, “Here’s Dr…. uh… Bob… Seinfeld.” 

“Okay,” Steve said and frowned at the phone in his hand. 

“Mr. Barton had an appointment yesterday and didn’t show up,” the voice said. 

“Why did he have an appointment?” Steve asked and frowned even more. 

“He… uh… he injured himself two weeks ago and I need to look at the stitches,” the man said. He sounded weird Steve thought for a brief moment. 

“Okay, I talk to him,” he said and the man thanked him and ended the call. 

Steve looked at the calendar they had in their kitchen, the one where they noted all their appointments. There was no notice about a doctor’s appointment. He frowned again. He came back from his mission this morning and Clint didn’t mention anything about an injury. 

“Clint?” he called. He knew he was here, but when he wasn’t in the house he would probably find him in the garage. 

“Clint?” he called a moment later when found him on a creeper under his car. 

“Yeah, babe?” Clint asked and felt for one of the tools beside himself. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked and looked at the man under the car. 

“Yeah, sure,” Clint said, put the tool down and took another one. Steve couldn’t see what he did, he was hidden by the car, he could just hear him. 

“And you’re healthy?” he asked and hunkered down to look at Clint. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” 

“Okay,” Steve said, “could you please stop pretending everything is peachy and actually talk to me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Steve,” Clint sighed. 

“I just got a call from your doctor who said you missed your appointment,” Steve said. Clint cursed but his grease-stained hands appeared on the body of the car and he pulled himself out from under it. With a sigh he looked up at him. 

“What’s wrong, Clint?” He asked. “Why did you have a doctor’s appointment and why did you miss it?” 

“I injured myself when I renovated the house two weeks ago and needed a few stitches. That’s all,” Clint said. 

“And why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It’s just a scratch,” he threw his hands in the air and sighed. “Nothing serious, really. You’ve been on a mission and when you came back I just forgot it. It’s a scratch.” 

“Why didn’t you go to your appointment then?” Steve wanted to know.

“Why? Because he’s going to look at it and says that everything is okay,” Clint snorted. “That’s a waste of time.” 

“Let me see it,” Steve said. 

“What? Why?” 

“Please,” Steve asked. Clint sighed and reached for a rag to clean his hands. He collected the tools he had beside him and carried them to his toolbox to put them away. He was very fastidious with his tools and no one was allowed to touch them without asking for permission, not even Steve. Especially not Steve, not since he destroyed Clint’s _favorite_ board saw last year. 

“Fine,” Clint huffed and turned around. He grabbed the waistband of his sweats and let them drop. The tips of Steve’s ears turned red when he realized that he went commando but then he let his eyes trail over Clint’s thigh to the circular wound and the stitches in it. 

“That…” he said slowly and wiped his mouth with his hand, “that looks like a gunshot.” He looked up and scrutinized Clint, who pulled his pants back on. 

“Or as if someone is too dumb to use the nailgun,” he sighed. He hated it to have to lie to Steve, he really hated it, but what should he tell him? Hey, your best friend and brother in everything but blood shot me in my leg after I killed a man right in front of him. 

“The nailgun?” Steve asked and still looked at his leg. 

“Yes, Steve, the nailgun. Gary, that dumb fuck, had to fool around with it and shot a nail in my damn leg. Nat brought me to a doctor, he pulled it out and stitched it up. That’s it, that’s the whole story,” he said. He reached for the waistband of his sweats and pulled them up.

“Gary? Who’s this Gary guy? You never mentioned a Gary,” Steve said now and folded his arms over his chest. 

“Calm down, babe,” Clint sighed. “He’s a drywaller I met at the site I worked two weeks ago.” Somehow it was cute that Steve got angry on his behalf, even at someone who he had just made up. 

“Tell him if he injures you again he’ll have to talk to me!” Steve said. “And tomorrow we’ll go to your doctor for your checkup.” 

Clint shook his head with a smile, he went over to Steve, stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Steve. “Yes, mom,” he said. 

“I worry about you, Clint,” Steve said and now Clint raised his brow.

“You worry about me? You’re an agent and you hunt down murderers and really dangerous people and you’re in the line of fire on a regular basis and you worry about me? I’m a carpenter and the worst thing that apparently can happen to me is that an idiot shoots with a nailgun at me.” 

“It’s a dangerous job, too,” Steve said and shrugged. 

“That’s why I love you, babe,” Clint smiled. He put both his hands around Steve’s waist, pulled him close and kissed him again.

***

Clint was in his garage slash workshop, sitting at a workbench and brooding over a bunch of papers spread out on it. He had taken a job a few days ago but the problem was it was very close to his home. He should’ve declined it he thought for a brief moment but he couldn’t do that.

District Attorney Marco D’Andrea was visiting his sister tomorrow. She lived only a few blocks from here and it was the best chance he would get. 

His contact, Kate, a young archer who lived in an apartment building he owned and who he trained, had met a middle aged woman in a dingy bar but she had recognized her immediately, ADA Sharon Page-McPhee. Apparently D’Andrea had a liking for little boys and he made the mistake to touch the wrong boy, Page’s eleven years old son. And Sharon Page-McPhee was not only ADA in D’Andrea’s office, she was also the youngest daughter of Senator William “Billy” Page, a woman with both, connections _and_ money. 

He studied a map from the area, he’s been there to take pictures and Kate had organized the blueprints from the house. He just made some notes when he heard Steve on the stairs. Quickly he took the blueprints of their house and put them over other ones and flipped over the page in his notebook. 

“Hey,” Steve smiled, leaned over him and kissed his temple. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, nothing important,” he said and pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him. “I just had an idea.” 

“Please don’t tell me you plan to change something in the house again,” Steve sighed but with a fond smile on his lips. 

“Yeah, uh…” he pointed at the second floor. “See, our bedroom is really big and I could cut off a piece to build a walk in closet so we have more space here,” he pointed at a corner of their bedroom, “and when we relocate the bathroom over here,” he pointed at another spot, “then we could use this part here,” he pointed again, “as a guest room,” he said and looked over his shoulder now at Steve, “or… or as a nursery.” 

Steve was completely taken aback. “A nursery?” he blurted and stared at Clint dumbfounded. “But…” 

Clint looked away for a moment then he licked his lips. “It was… it was just an idea, you know,” he said then. 

“A child? Clint! You and me?” Steve breathed. 

“Why not? I mean, we’re married for four years now and…” He reached for a folder he had on his workbench, opened it and showed it to Steve. 

“An application for adoption?” Steve’s eyes went comically wide. 

“I didn’t mean to spring this on you,” Clint said. “Like I said, it was just an idea and… last week, while surfing the web, I… I found this website.. And…” He took a deep breath. “Thousands of kids are trapped in orphanages and they need a family and you’d be the most awesome dad I can imagine. And so I downloaded the application.” 

“Clint, that’s… that’s…” Steve shook his head. He pulled Clint up and wrapped his arms around him. And kissed him. “I’d love to adopt a child with you.” 

Clint couldn’t hold back a broad grin and he grabbed Steve’s face to kiss him again. “Awesome! Daddy Steve and Papa Clint, how does that sound to you?” 

“I’d love that,” Steve smiled. But then he sighed. “I have to go to work now but… how about we talk about it - and maybe fill in the application together - this afternoon?” 

“I love you, babe,” Clint said, raised himself on his tiptoes to kiss his husband. Steve couldn’t stop smiling and he held his hand as long as possible while walking back to the stairs and only when Clint heard the door click shut he sat down again, leaned back and pressed his fingers against his eyes. 

“Fuck!” he cursed. Okay, it was true that he wanted to adopt a child with Steve, more than everything. Steve was the love of his life and a child would make their family complete. But he never wanted to spring it on him in passing. This was something to talk in peace about and not… like that. He looked at the blueprints of their house and sighed. He should listen to Nat’s advice and stop. Stop his second life as assassin and just be a carpenter. He loved to work in construction, to work with wood and the other construction workers. Or he could picture himself as a stay-at-home dad, to go to the park with the kid, to go to the playground, to have a dog and to be at home and wait for his husband, that was something he would love. And he had enough money to never have to work ever again. 

But then - he shoved away the blueprints of his house to look at the documents about D’Andrea - as long as those assholes existed someone had to do something and if the system couldn't stop them, someone like him was needed. 

“Fuck!” he cursed again and put everything back in the folder and locked it in one of the drawers of his workbench. He rose, took his empty mug and went with it upstairs, walked to the kitchen to refill it. Steve was gone already, his jacket was gone, his boots were gone but he could still smell him. He was such a damn hypocrite! 

“Fuck!”

***

Steve was in his office slash atelier to draw when Clint came back. After especially strenuous missions he needed to unwind and drawing helped him. And sex. But Clint wasn’t here and so he had only his atelier and his easel.

When he heard the door he rose and walked into the living room. Clint stood there in the entry area, dripping wet, and opened the laces of his trainers.

“Oh my god, Clint! Why are you all wet?” Steve blurted. 

Clint grabbed his shoes and put them in the box they had beside the door and cocked his head. 

“Maybe because it’s raining outside?” he said with a lopsided grin. He leaned in to kiss Steve in passing on his way to the bathroom. Steve followed him.

“Yes, I know that,” he said and watched Clint pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it in the bathtub. “But what I meant was…” Steve was a little distracted when Clint slid out of his shorts and threw them to his shirt. “I mean… why didn’t you take cover?” 

“Why? Because I’m not made out of sugar,” Clint winked at him. 

“You’re soaking wet!” Steve said and his eyes trailed over Clint’s naked body and he licked his lips. 

“Yeah? I wouldn’t’ve noticed,” he grinned and _accidentally_ flexed his muscles to tease Steve a bit. 

Steve opened is mouth but then his phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket and looked at it. He read the message and frowned. 

“Wanna join me in the shower?” Clint said, waggled his butt and winked at him. 

“Can’t,” Steve sighed. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Clint smiled and touched Steve’s arm for a moment.

“Believe me, I know exactly what I’m missing,” he said and shuffled his feet, “but SHIELD just ordered me in, someone killed a District Attorney with an arrow.” 

“Oh shit,” Clint said, his nakedness forgotten in an instant. “Your guy?” 

“It seems so,” Steve said. “He’s the only one who kills with arrows.” 

“Okay, then…” he nodded, “then go.” 

“He killed him in broad daylight, Clint, can you imagine that?” Steve sighed. “D’Andrea just walked to the house of his sister, to visit his family and before he could even cross the street the guy shot him down. He let him bleed out in the middle of the damn street. Children could’ve seen him.” 

“Oh my god, that’s awful,” Clint said. “And sounds like a lot of work.” 

“Do you know what’s the worst?” Steve asked and when Clint shook his head he continued, “It happened only a few blocks from here.” 

“Shit,” Clint said and looked at him. 

“You know, I’d love to shower with you,” Steve admitted, “but I have to go now…” 

“... or Coulson’s going to arrest me for keeping you away. I understand.” 

He kissed Clint before he left and couldn’t resist to at least squeeze his naked ass a bit before he had to go.

“See you later,” he said and Clint waved at him and stepped in the shower cubicle. 

Steve sighed. He would really love to shower with Clint. With another sigh he put on some shoes, grabbed his jacket and keys and left the house. 

Sam and Bucky were waiting in a car and he hurried over and climbed on the back seat. Let’s get this over with and then back to Clint.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint leaned against the wall of the shower, his eyes closed and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He had lied to Steve once more and he felt like crap. They had filled in the application for adoption of a child and yet he lied to him all the time. He had to stop this. He had to stop this right now. 

If their application got accepted, if they got a child, he couldn’t risk to get arrested or injured. Steve’s job was dangerous enough and at least one of them should stay alive for the child. He knew that Steve would never stop at SHIELD but he… he could stop. 

He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“Dammit!” he cursed again. Why was his life so complicated? Why did he have to fall in love with the man who tried to arrest him? And why on earth did he marry him? He should’ve moved on, broke up with Steve as soon as he found out who he was. But he loved him so much already and it would’ve broken his heart. And Steve’s. 

But now, now was the right time to stop. Steve had no idea who this mysterious archer was and if he could feign his death, he would stop searching for him. SHIELD would close the case and Steve could do other cases. He needed to talk to Nat. And to Kate. He needed their help. 

The infamous assassin Hawkeye had to die so that Clint Barton, the carpenter and husband, could live. He toweled himself, put on some clean clothes and went to his pick-up. It was too rainy to use the bike. 

When he arrived at the building in Bed Stuy he saw Grills, one of the tenants, taking out the garbage. He saw him, touched his hat to him and smiled. 

“Hey,” Clint smiled back. “Everything okay here?” 

“Yeah,” the man still smiled and walked to the dumpster. 

“Is Kate here?” Clint asked and Grills shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said and kept walking. He went to his car and drove away. Sometimes he really was a weird guy.

Clint looked up at the building, saw that there was light in Kate’s apartment and went to the fire ladder. He climbed up, looked through the window and when he saw her sitting on the couch and reading, he used his knife to open the window and climb in. 

“You still don’t have locks on your windows,” he said when he walked over to the couch. “Evil guys can come in easily.” 

“I’ve installed a security system,” Kate said without looking up from her book. “I knew you were here since you got out of your car.” 

Clint laughed and flopped down in the armchair. “How you doin’?” 

“Are you here to make small talk?” Kate asked, put a bookmark in her book and put it aside. 

“No,” he said and looked at his fingers for a moment. “No, I…” 

“Please don’t tell me you need me to meet another one of your clients,” she sighed and Clint looked up again. 

“No,” he said. “I… I need you and Natasha to kill me.” 

“What?” Kate blurted and scrambled up from the couch. “What is…” Clint realized what he had said and raised both hands.

“No! Not like that!” he said quickly. “God! No, I mean… not me, Hawkeye! Hawkeye has to die.” 

“Why?” Kate sat down again and looked at him, a puzzled look on her face. “I mean… you like what you do.” 

“Yeah,” Clint said and leaned back again and licked his lips. “But… I love Steve more.” He looked up and shrugged a bit. 

“Pussy-whipped, huh?” Kate grinned and Clint threw a glare in her direction. 

“No,” he said then. “But… this double life eats me up. I hate that I have to lie to Steve all the time. I want to be just Clint, not the assassin he’s hunting. If Hawkeye dies, we can be just an ordinary couple, you know.” 

Kate looked at him for a long moment. “You thought about this thoroughly?” she said then and Clint nodded. 

“We want to adopt a child,” he said. “I can’t run around and kill people and then go home and change diapers while my husband is out there trying to find the killer, you know.” 

“Wow! Clint! I had no idea! A child?” Kate blurted. Clint shrugged again. 

“That’s not the point at the moment. We just filled in the application and…” he stopped. “The point is, Hawkeye has to die. And you have to help me.” 

“Does Nat know about it yet? I mean, you two work together sometimes and…” 

They got interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“I guess that’s her,” Clint said. Kate rose and opened. It was Natasha. She smiled, hugged her and came in. 

“Hey, Barton,” she nodded in his direction and Clint raised a brow. 

“What? You greet her with a hug and for me it’s just a ‘hey, Barton’?” he said and Nat shrugged.

“She’s a nice person and you didn’t even bother to get up when I came in,” she smirked. “And you’re still sitting in my armchair.” 

Clint rose and let her sit down. He went to the kitchen, opened the fridge and looked in, saw a few cans of beer, took one, opened it and went back in the living room to sit down on the couch. 

“No problem,” Kate snarked. “Make yourself at home, go help yourself, drink my beer.” 

“Thanks, Katie-Kate,” he grinned and leaned back. “And thank you for coming over. I know it’s risky for you, Nat. But I need your help.” 

Natasha raised a brow and Kate went to the kitchen and brought two more cans of beer, gave one to Nat and opened the second one. 

“What do you need?” Nat asked and looked at Clint now. 

“There’s no point in beating around the bush,” he sighed. “Hawkeye has to die.” 

Natasha raised a brow and scrutinized him for a long moment. 

“Are you sure?” She asked and Clint nodded.

“I thought about it for a while but… yesterday me and Steve filled in an application for adoption of a child. We want to become dads, Nat. I can’t run around and kill people anymore.” 

“You can just stop,” she suggested but Clint shook his head. 

“You know Steve,” he said. “It’s his job to hunt down Hawkeye. He wouldn’t stop searching for him. No, Hawkeye needs to die. We need a body and proof that it _is_ Hawkeye.” 

“Right,” she said and nodded slowly. “Makes sense.” 

“They know how you look like, right? I mean, height, weight, body form and all that stuff,” Kate said. 

“So we need someone, who’s as tall as me, weighs as much as me and has as impressive arms…” - Kate snorted - “...and who deserves to die,” Clint summed it up. 

“Maybe…” Nat started but a glance shut her up. 

“Someone, who deserves to die,” Clint repeated. “Or…” he turned to Kate now. “Do you still have connections to the guy from the morgue?” 

“You want to steal a body?” She blurted. 

“That happens all the time,” Clint said and shrugged. “I mean… it’s easier than to find someone and to kill him and then…” 

Kate stared at him open mouthed, then she turned to Natasha, “He gone bonkers?” 

“He’s always been weird,” Nat smiled. She emptied her beer, crumpled up the can and threw it in the bin in the kitchen she could see from her spot on the couch. Clint nodded appreciatively and Nat raised a brow for a tiny second.

“No, think about it,” Clint said and looked at the two of them. “Every day homeless people die and no one is there to… to claim the body, to bury them. And so...so they can help to let a dangerous assassin disappear.” 

“Clint, you’re completely nuts,” Kate said. “But I have to admit, in this case you may be right.” 

“What? We can’t just go in a morgue and ask the coroner if we can have one of his homeless!” Nat said. 

“No, of course not. That would be ridiculous,” Clint said and looked at Natasha as if she was gone bonkers now. “That’s why I asked Kate if she still has the connection to the guy who works at the morgue. He can let her know if there’s someone who matches my description, we can go fetch the body, the guy gets some money to pay back his student loan… or buy a new car or whatever… and we have a dead assassin,” he said and grinned at them. 

“We went out two times,” Kate said. “I can’t just go to him and ask him if he wants to sell us the body of a dead homeless guy.” 

“I could talk to him,” Nat said. Clint and Kate looked at her, their eyes wide as saucers. “I won’t harm him, for crying out loud! I just… could talk to him, convince him that he wants to help us.” 

“Okay,” Kate said then. “Let’s assume we have a body, what do we do then? We can’t just throw it on the stairs of SHIELD’s HQ with a sign around his neck ‘I’m Hawkeye’.” 

Clint’s grin broadened. “Did you see the movie ‘Now you see me’?” 

Both women were quiet and looked at him as if he lost his mind. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Nat said. “Please tell me you’re kidding!” 

“Not as complicated as in the movie, but what if Hawkeye has an accident with his car and the cops find a body and a bow and arrows and maybe some hint that he has planned to shoot someone,” he said. And now both women cocked their heads in unison. 

“Clint, it’s not you we’re talking about, it’s scary and competent assassin Hawkeye,” Kate said. “No one would believe that someone like him is dumb enough to drive around with his bow in his trunk and a file with his next target on the passenger’s seat. And then gets into an accident and dies for crying out loud.” 

“Hey!” Clint said. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or flattered. 

“No,” Nat shook her head. “But what if SHIELD is on his tails when he has the accident?” 

“Then he dies,” Kate suggested and Nat shook her head again.

“Not if we do it right,” she grinned. “The body has to be in the car, we have to get the one with Clint in it out of their sight and then the one with the body has to have an accident,” she said. 

“That’s exactly the shit from the movie!” Kate exclaimed. “Do you know how complicated that is?” 

“I know,” Clint sighed. “But it has to happen. One way or the other.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nat asked.

“I don’t care how it happens, but Hawkeye has to die. Preferably sooner than later and with me surviving,” he said. Kate nodded. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nat said. “I have to plan a bit, maybe call in a few favors but I guess we can kill you with you surviving.” 

“Okay, guys,” Kate said. She looked pointedly at her watch. “It’s nice to have you here, but I have to go to class now, and…” she waved her hands at them. Clint grinned and rose. He threw his can in the bin without even looking and it hit dead center. Kate rolled her eyes and Nat went to the door. 

“Come on, dead man,” she grinned. “Let’s go for a drink.” 

Clint frowned. “It’s four pm,” he said and Nat rolled her eyes.

“It’s eleven pm in Moscow,” she said. Clint looked at her for a long moment. 

“Okay,” he shrugged then. “Steve will be busy for a few more hours.” 

“I know a Russian bar not far away,” she said. “And they have a really good vodka.” 

“Sounds good.”

***

It wasn’t a good idea to drink and then to drive. Clint was - when it came to alcohol - a lightweight and he should’ve known that. After all, his father killed himself and his mom while driving drunk. But he only had three vodkas and he thought he was still capable to drive.

He should’ve known better. It was only a split second, a moment of abstraction. And it wasn’t even his fault. Another car ignored his right of way and if he would’ve been sober he could’ve avoided the crash. But his mom always had said ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride’. He never understood it… until now. 

The car ignored his right of way, Clint had to jerk the wheel violently around to not collide with it but he hit a parked car instead. And thanks to his bad Barton-luck his pick-up rolled over and he hit his head and lost consciousness. His last thought before darkness swallowed him was ‘Fuck!’.

***

Clint woke in a hospital. He groaned because his head hurt and when he tried to take a deep breath, he realized that his chest hurt, too. Probably a broken rib… or two.

He tried to touch his head but something stopped his hand and Clint moaned again. His hands were tied to the bed. 

Fuck! When he moved his hand a bit he could reach the button to call for a nurse. It took only a minute and a big, burly male nurse came in. The guy was taller than Steve, black, bald and had a thick beard. He wouldn’t want to meet someone like him alone and in a dark alley. 

“Can I help you?” the man asked and came over to him. 

“Yeah… uhm…” he tugged at the cuffs holding his hands.

“The cops brought you in and they found a weapon in your car. It’s a safety measure they said,” the nurse explained. 

“I… uh… I use it to hunt,” Clint tried but the man shrugged.

“That’s not my affair,” he said. “Someone is coming for you and until he’s here we’re supposed to take care that you’re okay.” 

“What happened?” he asked then. He remembered a car accident but not what happened then. 

“Your car rolled over, you got jammed in and the fire department cut you out,” the nurse said. “You have three contused ribs and hit your head pretty hard but no serious injuries. You really had luck,” he added then. Clint couldn’t hold back a snort and tugged at the cuffs again. “Well, aside from that,” the man said. 

Clint just wanted to ask when the door went open and a cop looked in, looked at the nurse and he nodded. “Your visitor is here,” he said. “Do you need anything?” 

“No… uh… no,” Clint said and shook his head and regretted it only a second later. His head really hurt. 

The nurse nodded and went to the door, opened it and left and someone else came in. And Clint paled. 

“Mr. Barton-Rogers,” Phil Coulson said. He wore his usual perfectly pressed suit and a stony expression on his face. 

“Fuck,” Clint couldn’t hold back. “Hey, Coulson,” he said and Coulson raised a brow. 

“That’s Agent Coulson,” he said icy. He went over to him, looked at the cuffs and then back at him, his face still blank and Clint hated that he couldn’t read him. “Care to explain why you had a bow in your truck?” 

“I hunt,” Clint said and Coulson shook his head. 

“No, you don’t,” he said. “This bow is not for hunting. It’s a highly developed sniper bow and I bet it cost more than my car.” Coulson had a classic red 1962 Chevrolet Corvette he loved to pieces, he even called her Lola. And he was right. The bow did cost more than the car. It was custom-built for him and had lots of tech in it. 

“What do you want me to say, Coulson?” Clint asked. 

“You are Hawkeye,” he said. It wasn’t a question so Clint saw no need to answer. “Does Steve know?” 

Clint looked out of the window for a moment before he shook his head. Coulson scrutinized him a few moments longer before he took a deep breath. He went to the door and gestured at someone outside and two agents in suits came in. 

“Bring him to the HQ,” he said to them before he left. “I’ll call Agent Rogers.” 

Clint swallowed. He was fucked and he knew it. He should’ve left Steve the moment he realized that he was the Agent who hunted him. But Clint was selfish. When he found out he was already head over heels in love with him and he wanted to be with him and now? Now he was fucked. Coulson would tell Steve and he would leave him and he, Clint, would go to jail… or worse. 

One of the agents aimed his gun at him while the other undid the cuffs. Clint rose and they tied his hands in front of him. For a moment he thought about fighting - and he knew he could take them out easily, even with contused ribs and tied hands - but now that they knew who he was they would find him easily. 

The man who tied him took his arm and led him out of the room and the other one followed them, his hand on his gun to shoot him the moment he would try something. Together they walked out of the hospital and lots of people looked at him, saw that he was cuffed and made steps back or pointed and whispered. Clint didn’t look at them. 

Outside were two black SUVs and beside one of them were more agents. The two, who brought him outside, one of them went to the backseat door, opened it and the other one put a hand on Clint’s head while he shoved him in. And then he sat down beside him. The other agent went to the driver’s door, climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. 

Clint looked out of the window. Coulson came out of the hospital, went to the passenger’s seat and sat down. 

“Drive,” he said and the agent obeyed. 

_Fuck_ , Clint thought and looked at his hands. He knew he could overpower the agent beside him, could grab his gun and shoot both, Coulson and the driver and then… then he was on the run and his husband would hunt him and maybe shoot him. It would break him but he would do it nevertheless and then he would hate himself because he had to do it and it was all Clint’s fault. No, he would stay and face him. 

They arrived at a building a bit outside of New York. It seemed unsuspicious but he was pretty sure that that was the general idea. The SUVs drove to the entrance and stopped. Coulson and the agent beside Clint got out and the other agent came around the car, opened the door and took Clint’s arm again. 

“Bring him to an interrogation room, Agent Oswin,” Coulson said and the man who held him nodded and gave Clint’s arm a squeeze. 

Clint went with him, didn’t struggle, just followed him. The corridors were like a labyrinth but Agent Oswin knew where he had to go. He brought him to an elevator, rode with him to the 4th basement floor and led him through more corridors. Clint tried to memorize the way but it was almost impossible. 

Agent Oswin stopped in front of a door, unlocked it and took Clint’s arm again and led him in. There was only a table and two chairs inside and - cliché, cliché - a huge mirror on one of the walls. He sat down on the side opposite of the mirror. There was a ring on the table and Agent Oswin tied his hands to it and then he left him.

Clint tried to lean back but it was impossible, the cuffs held him in an uncomfortable position. He sighed and leaned forward instead, put his head on his arms and closed his eyes. He had no idea how much time they would let dawdle away and so he could try to get some sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve was in the morgue, together with Sam and Bucky. The coroner just removed the arrow out of District Attorney Marco D’Andrea’s head. 

“What do you say?” Bucky asked and the coroner looked up. 

“He was immediately dead,” the man said. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t even realize that he was dead. One moment he was there…” he snapped his fingers, “...and the next he was dead. Simple as that.” 

“Okay, but…” Sam started but they got interrupted when Steve’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and saw Coulson’s name. 

“Rogers,” he said when he took the call. 

“Steve,” Coulson said. “I need you to come back to HQ asap.” 

“But we’re…” he said but Coulson interrupted him. 

“It’s about Clint,” he said. 

“What… did something happen? Is he okay? Talk to me, Coulson,” Steve snapped. 

“He’s okay, but I really need you to come back to the HQ,” Coulson said. 

“Okay,” Steve said. He knew Coulson wouldn’t say more on the phone. “I’m on my way.” 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky wanted to know and looked at him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Coulson’s been a bit cryptic but he wants me to come to HQ. He said it’s about Clint.” 

Bucky and Sam shared a glance. 

“Then you better go,” Sam said. “We can handle that.” 

“Yeah, we’re big boys,” Bucky grinned. 

“Okay, just… call me if you…” Steve said but Sam rolled his eyes.

“Leave! Now!” 

“Okay, okay,” Steve said and raised both hands in mocked surrender. But he was a little worried if he was honest with himself. Coulson sounded more than just cryptic. 

He drove back to the HQ as fast as possible and when he entered the building a junior agent waited for him in the entrance hall. 

“Agent Rogers,” he said. “Agent Coulson wants me to bring you to him.” 

Steve frowned. Why didn’t he just tell him where Coulson was? But then he took a deep breath and nodded. “Lead the way.” 

Together the two men went to the elevator and Steve frowned even more when they went to the floor with the interrogation rooms. 

“Here,” the young agent said and pointed at one of the doors. A watching room. He opened the door and saw Coulson inside together with another agent. 

“Okay, I’m here,” he said as soon as he entered and then he looked at the room opposite of the mirror… and paled. Inside, hands tied to the table, sat Clint. He had a few band aids on him and looked a bit… rumpled. “Oh my god!” He reached for the door handle and wanted to leave immediately. 

“Steve,” Coulson said and stepped up to him, stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait.” 

“Why’s he here? Why’s he cuffed and why is he injured?” 

“Okay, long story short, we think he’s Hawkeye,” Coulson said. Steve stopped dead in his tracks, half out of the door already but now he looked at Coulson. 

“What?” He asked. Coulson gestured at him to follow him back in the watching room. 

“The police called us,” he said. “They were called to a car accident. The driver was unconscious but they found something interesting in his car.” He shoved a picture over to him. “This.” It was a high-tech sniper bow and Steve remembered it, he had seen it not long ago very close… when an arrow was aimed at him. He stared at the picture for a long moment and shook his head but then his knees turned to jelly and he had to sit down. 

“What?” he asked again and looked at Coulson. He couldn't believe it. Was it really possible that… that _his_ Clint, the man he loved, was a ruthless killer? 

“Do you want to come in with me?” Coulson asked and Steve looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “Just… find out if he really is Hawkeye, okay?”

“Steve…” Coulson started but Steve looked at him and after a long moment he nodded. “Okay.” He took a file and left the room.

“Mr. Barton-Rogers,” Coulson said when he had entered the room and sat down opposite of Clint, with his back to Steve. “How do you feel?” 

“Head hurts a bit,” Clint said. “The ribs, too.” Steve had to subdue the urge to go to him, to comfort him. 

“Do you want some medication?” Coulson asked and Clint shook his head. 

“No,” he said. He didn’t take painkillers, couldn’t stomach them. They made him dizzy in a way he didn’t like and that’s why he always refused them. Steve knew that. 

“Okay,” Coulson nodded slowly. “We need to talk about the bow in your truck.” 

“What do you want me to say, Coulson?” Clint said and cocked his head a bit. 

“ _Agent_ Coulson,” Coulson said. He opened the file he had brought, took out a photo and shoved it over to Clint. He looked at it, just moved his eyes, not his head and then looked back at Coulson. There was no surprise in them, no shock, as if he knew what he would see. 

“District Attorney Marco D’Andrea,” Clint said and Steve closed his eyes. “He’s been a well respected man with a dark secret, _Agent_ Coulson. He has a liking for little boys, did you know that? No, of course not. He’s been very careful. But not careful enough. Senator Billy Page’s daughter works as an ADA in his office and one day she had to bring her son to work with her and guess what? When they went home the boy was shell-shocked, he cried but he didn’t keep it to himself, he told his mother what happened.” Clint tried to lean back and took a deep breath. “But Sharon Page-McPhee is not a woman to be trifled with and she investigated. Our well respected DA Marco D’Andrea touched not only her son, he was doing it regularly, he had pictures and videos on his computer and the worst, he even molested his own nephew. The son of his sister!” 

Clint moved his hands as far as the cuffs allowed and he pointed at the picture. “No one did anything against him, not the cops, not the FBI, not SHIELD. No one.” And then he cocked his head again. “No one but me.” 

“So, you’re judge, jury and executioner in one person?” Coulson asked. 

“No,” Clint said and shook his head. “I’m the weapon.” 

“What does that mean?” Coulson asked. 

“Someone else - in this case Sharon Page-McPhee - decided that D’Andrea needed to be punished, needed to die. They load the weapon and aim at the target. And I,” he pointed at himself now, “I am the weapon. If I hadn’t, someone else would’ve done it. But it would’ve happened.” 

“So, you say it’s not your fault that D’Andrea is dead?” Coulson asked. Clint looked at his hands for a moment. 

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he said and now a small, sad smile appeared on his lips. “Did I hold the bow? Yes. Did I nock the arrow? Yes. Did I aim at D’Andrea? Yes. Did I release the arrow and kill the man? Yes. Did I decide to do it? No. So, is it my fault or the fault of the person who decided he had to die?” 

“This is…” Coulson stopped and shook his head. “Do you really believe that?” 

Clint shrugged again. Steve clenched his fists and forced himself to stay, where he was. 

“Agent Rogers,” Coulson said now. “Did you know that he was sent to capture you?” 

Clint took a deep breath again, then shook his head. “Not at first,” he said. “I… found it out later, but…” 

“But?” Coulson looked up and Clint shrugged but kept quiet. Steve could see Clint bite his lip. 

“But… nothing. It was convenient.” He blinked a few times. That was a lie. He always blinked a lot when he lied. 

“You kept your relationship with Agent Rogers to find out what he planned?” Coulson asked and once again Clint just shrugged. Steve couldn’t stay still anymore, he hurried out of the watching room and into the interrogation room. 

Neither Clint nor Coulson startled when he burst through the door and slammed his hands down on the table. They both apparently expected him. 

“Why?” Was the only thing he could ask, he needed to know. Clint cast his eyes down for a moment. 

“I was trying to protect you,” he said then and looked up. 

“Protect me?” Steve asked and leaned forward. “Protect me from what? The truth?” 

“Steve,” Clint said and tried to reach out for him but Steve pushed himself up and made a few steps back. 

“Was anything you ever said to me true, Clint?” He asked and he saw the hurt in Clint’s eyes. He could still read him like an open book and maybe Clint didn’t even try to hide what he thought. “Is that even your name? Or did you make it up, too?” 

“Aside from my real job, I never lied to you,” he said. “My name is Clinton Francis Barton, I was born and raised in Waverly, Iowa, my parents died when I was six and me and my brother ran away to the circus. But you know that, Steve, because I told you.” 

“Of course I know all those stories. But are they true?” Steve asked and once again he could see the hurt in Clint’s eyes but he only looked away for a moment. “Are they true?” 

“I never lied to you,” Clint said again, his voice barely a whisper. He tried to move his hands but the cuffs held them in position and so he just clenched and unclenched them a few times. 

“When we met in that coffee shop,” Steve said and moved back again. “Did you know who I was? Did you know that I was the agent who was sent to hunt you?” 

Clint looked up, locked his eyes with Steve’s and then he said, “No.” And Steve believed him. He knew him… or at least he had thought that he knew him. “That was a coincidence. I was there to get my fix and that I ran into you…” a small smile appeared on his face. “That was dumb luck.” 

Steve remembered the day, of course he did. 

_He and Bucky went to get a coffee after work and the guy in front of him in the line was really cute. And when he got his paper cup and turned around he literally ran into Steve and spilled his piping hot coffee over him._

_Bucky had started to laugh and Steve had tried to get rid of the shirt and the hot beverage while the guy had tried to clean him with napkins and muttered, ‘Aww, coffee, no’ and ‘Aww, shirt, no’._

_‘Do you always do that?’ Steve had asked and the man looked at him confused. ‘To scold inanimate things.’_

_‘No,’ he had said, ‘Only when I make a fool of myself.’_

_‘You can make up for it,’ Bucky threw in and both looked at him now. And Bucky pointed at the menu with a smirk._

_‘Oh! Of course!’ the guy blurted. ‘You’re coffee is on me.’ And when Steve had started to smile he had cocked his head. ‘And if you want to, some company, too.’_

_Steve had been so impressed - usually guys didn’t hit on him so directly - and he had agreed. Bucky had rolled his eyes, had muttered something under his breath and left. And they had talked the rest of the evening and they had made a date for the next one._

“I found out when we dated for half a year, Steve,” Clint said and locked his eyes with him. “Remember when you accidentally spilled the name of one of the victims you investigated?” Clint asked and Steve remembered. 

“We were at that Pizza place you liked and you looked at me weird and said something was wrong with your food,” he said. Clint nodded. “You ran to the restroom and… and you needed almost twenty minutes to come back. And when I looked for you…” 

“I was on the verge of running away,” Clint said. “I sat on the toilet lid and debated with myself if I should leave and never come back or… or stay.” He looked up now. “But I couldn’t leave you, Steve. I loved you so much already.” 

Coulson looked at them as if he wished he was somewhere else. He pressed his lips together and _read_ concentrated in the file in front of him. 

Steve glared at Clint and then he shook his head. 

“I couldn’t just walk away,” Clint said. He held his eyes with his. “I knew you investigated one of my clients and yet…” 

“Clients?” Steve snorted. “That’s what you call them? You killed them in cold blood and…” 

“They deserved it!” Clint interrupted him. “Every single one of them deserved it. They were bastards! Killers, rapists, child molesters, guys who beat their wives to a bloody pulp regularly, human traffickers…” He tried to move his hands again but the cuffs still held them in position. “I killed a guy who sold babies to rich people! Don’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die!” 

“Actually,” Coulson threw in, “that’s the truth.” He took one of the papers out of the file and handed it to Steve. “We checked it.” 

Steve read, his lips pressed together. 

“Okay,” he said then, “Fine.” He threw the paper back to Coulson and folded his arms over his chest. “Nevertheless, it’s not up to you to decide who lives or dies.” 

“I didn’t,” Clint said. “I’ve only decided which jobs I accepted and which not.” 

“That’s splitting hairs!” Steve glared at him, shook his head and then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. He slammed the door shut behind himself. 

“Dammit!” He shouted and slammed his fist in the wall opposite of him and then hissed because it hurt. And there was a dent in the wall. He couldn’t go back in, not now. He couldn’t face him at the moment. 

He went back in the watching room and looked through the window again. 

“... have to tell you, Mr. Barton, you…” Coulson just said. He looked at something in the file.

“Rogers,” Clint interrupted him and Coulson looked up. 

“Mr. Barton-Rogers,” he said then. “What I wanted to tell you, Mr. Barton-Rogers, you’re going to jail for a very long time. But I’m here to offer you an option.” 

“An option? What kind of option?” Clint asked and frowned. 

“You’re an exceptional sniper, Mr. Barton-Rogers. It would be a waste to let a talent like you rot in jail even if you more than deserve it.” 

Clint held his eyes, his gaze steely and his lips pressed together. “What do you want, Coulson?” 

“ _Agent_ Coulson,” Phil corrected him again. “And in consultation with Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill, we want you to work for us.” 

“What?” Clint blurted and his eyes went wide. 

“What?” Steve said the same moment in the watching room. 

“We want you to work for us,” Coulson repeated. “You can do some good to make up for all the… things you’ve done.” 

“You want your own pet assassin?” Clint asked and clenched his fists. 

“No, Mr. Barton,” Coulson said and when Clint cocked his head, Coulson added, “Rogers. You become an Agent of SHIELD, you accomplish missions for us…” 

Clint opened his mouth to interrupt him but Coulson raised his hand to stop him before he could say a word. 

“... but you always get the option to decline,” he said. “You don’t have to do a mission you don’t want to.” 

“What if I decline all of them?” Clint asked. 

“You know what happens then,” Coulson said. Clint nodded. 

“Okay,” he said then after a long moment. “Okay, I agree.” 

Coulson smiled and rose, “Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Barton.”

***

Steve sat on Bucky’s couch, a bottle of beer in his hand and tears in his eyes.

“Years, Buck,” he said. “We’re married for years and he lied all the time!” 

Bucky just looked at him. 

“I mean,” Steve continued, “Was anything he ever said true? Do you know how many times he said he loved me. Was that true or a lie, too?” 

“I don’t know him as good as you do,” Bucky said. “But when he looks at you…” he shook his head. “He couldn’t feign that.” 

“He’s a killer! He’s _Hawkeye_ for crying out loud! I married a carpenter and not _that_!” he took a long sip and then placed his empty bottle on the coffee table. 

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Bucky said. 

“What?” Steve blurted. “Are you crazy? No, I’m done with him!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky fronwed. 

“What do you think? I called a lawyer and…” 

“You want to get a divorce?” he asked and Steve looked at him, blushed but nodded. 

“I… I can’t… that’s not the man I married,” he said. 

“Maybe you should sleep on the matter,” Bucky said then. “I mean, I know you my whole life, punk, but since you’re together with Clint, you… you’re more settled, calmer. He completed you in a way I never thought was possible and…” 

“He’s a _killer_ , Buck! Don’t you get that?” 

“Coulson gave me the file,” Bucky said. “Clint also saved lots of people, you know.” 

“Are you on his side now?” Steve jumped up and glared at his best friend. “Are you defending him?” 

“I know him,” Bucky said. “And I know what he means to you.” 

“He means nothing to me!” Steve hissed. “He doesn’t exist as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Yeah, punk! You keep telling yourself.” 

Sam had told Bucky that Steve had almost cried when SHIELD agents fetched Clint’s things from their house. Clint was not allowed to leave the base at the moment and he needed clothes and his toothbrush. But that was not everything. SHIELD searched their house from basement to roof and found a few of his stashes. They even found a get-away bag with new documents, not only for Clint but also for Steve, and a huge amount of money. Steve was pale like a sheet when they had showed him. 

“He wanted… he wanted to… to adopt a child, Bucky,” Steve said. “ _We_ wanted to adopt a child.” 

“Steve,” Bucky said slowly. “As twisted as this is, one thing you can take as granted. That Clint loves you with all his heart. I know him and the way he looks at you…” he shook his head a bit, “Whenever he looks in your direction his features soften and he smiles as if the sun just rose, only for him. He can’t just feign that.” 

“And then he takes his bow and kills people.” 

“He killed bad people.” 

“Why does anyone defending him now?” Steve said and he sounded really whiny at the moment. 

“Maybe we just don’t want you to throw away your marriage?” Bucky said and took the bottle out of Steve’s hand. “And you, my friend, you had enough.” 

He rose, grabbed Steve’s feet and turned them so that Steve fell onto the couch. Bucky threw a cushion at him, took the blanket from the armchair and put it over him. 

“Hey!” Steve whined but Bucky just raised a brow. 

“You had eight beers in one hour. You sleep here.” 

Steve glared at him, muttered something under his breath but shifted around till he found a comfortable position. Bucky looked at him for a few more moments before he sighed and went to his bedroom. The situation was really fucked up but he knew Steve, he knew that he still loved the asshole, even if he said otherwise right now. And he would hate himself if he threw away his marriage so easily. 

Tomorrow he and Sam would have to have a talk with Clint. And he would probably not like it.


	8. Chapter 8

Clint lay on the bed in the small room they gave him. He had his hands folded behind his head and his feet crossed. It was a bedroom with a small single bed, a dresser, a table and a chair. It was a little bit like a prison cell. The only difference to a prison cell was, that there was no toilet in it but it had a bathroom beside it. It was small, just a shower, a small sink and the john. 

But it was way better than a prison cell because the door wasn’t locked. He could go out and roam around the compound. He couldn’t leave it, the ankle monitor took care of that, but he wasn’t locked in a small room with bars. 

He sighed. Steve refused to talk to him. He had asked Coulson if he could see him and Coulson had said he would tell him but Steve didn’t come. 

Instead an agent brought a few of his things and left without a word. Clint had put the clothes in the dresser, together with the new SHIELD uniforms Coulson had given him and brought his comb, toothbrush and razor to the bathroom. It was astounding how less things he really needed. 

A knock at his door interrupted his train of thoughts and Clint called, “Enter,” but stayed where he was. The door went open and a young woman appeared. 

“Mr. Barton?” She asked and Clint sighed. 

“Rogers,” he said automatically. “It’s Barton-Rogers,” he added when she frowned.

“Excuse me,” she said and blushed. “Agent Coulson asked me to bring you to the range.” 

Clint raised a brow and lifted his head a few inches. “Why?” he asked and the woman in SHIELD-uniform licked her lips.

“They… uh… they didn’t tell me,” she said. But then she looked over her shoulder and - her voice a little lower - she added, “But rumor says they want to evaluate your abilities.” 

Clint snorted. “They know my abilities,” he said. “That’s why they followed me.” 

The young woman shifted from one foot to the other until Clint sighed audibly and finally rose from the bed. 

“Lead the way,” Clint said with a gesture with his hand. She turned around and started to walk and Clint rolled his eyes and sighed again. No trained agent would turn his back to an assassin, not if they wanted to survive. “What’s your name by the way?” 

“Jenson,” she said. “Erin Jenson.” 

“Pleasure, Ms. Jenson,” Clint said. 

“You… uh… you can call me Erin,” she said with a shy smile. “I’m… uhm… I’m a fan,” she blurted then and almost tripped over her own feet. “I mean… it may sound weird and… but I’m an archer, too, and… oh god, not as good as you, but… what you can do… I’ve studied your cases at the academy and…” she babbled. 

“They talked about me at your academy?” he interrupted her. 

“Sure,” Erin nodded hastily. “You’re a legend here. Agent Rogers… he’s…” She stopped, blushed and closed her mouth with an audible click. “You’ve been his white whale, so to speak.” 

Clint pressed his lips tight together and Erin realized that she went too far. “Sorry,” she said. 

“It’s okay,” Clint said even if it wasn’t. But he knew it wouldn’t be easy here. 

Erin led him out of the building where they had a golf cart and Clint raised his brow again. She sat down behind the wheel and with a sigh Clint flopped in the seat beside her. A group of young agents just jogged past them, accompanied by an older agent who yelled at them constantly. Clint rolled his eyes. Another guy who thought he was Drill Instructor Hartman. 

Erin drove them to a big, flat building and stopped the golf cart beside a few others. 

“That’s a thing here, isn’t it?” Clint asked when he left the cart.

Erin frowned and Clint nodded at the carts. She smiled and nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “The compound is huge, it would take too much time to walk everywhere and unless someone invents how to beam we have to use them.” 

“Trekkie?” Clint grinned. He wasn’t a big fan but he liked the show. And the movies. The new Captain Kirk was a hottie.

“Maybe a bit,” Erin said and blushed while she led him to the door. With her keycard she opened it and held it so Clint could get in. 

“It’s okay,” he smiled. Erin opened another door with her card and then Clint saw a huge computerized indoor obstacle course. He whistled through his teeth.

“You like our range, Agent Barton?” he heard a voice from behind and turned around. Coulson came over to him, together with a tough looking woman in SHIELD uniform. 

“It’s… nice,” he said then but couldn’t suppress a smirk. 

“Deputy Director Hill,” Coulson introduced the woman. “And that’s our new inductee, Agent Barton.” And when Clint raised a brow, Coulson sighed and added, “Rogers.” 

“Welcome to SHIELD,” Hill said and nodded at him before she turned to leave. There were bleachers in the back and she went over to take a seat.

“So,” Clint said and looked around. He saw more people coming in and sit down in the back. A black guy with an eye-patch just entered together with Steve, behind them he could see Sam and Bucky. A blond woman just came in and sat down, too. More people were there but he didn’t know them. “What are we doing now?” 

“You take your bow and shoot at all the targets,” Coulson said, his face completely bland. 

“That’s it?” Clint asked.

“That’s it,” Coulson said. 

“You want me to go in there and shoot at targets? Really?” Clint asked again.

“Yes, really. That’s what I want you to do,” Coulson confirmed. 

“Is there a trick?” 

“Well,” Coulson sighed. “Of course you’re monitored and an AI will evaluate you.” 

“An AI?” He blurted.

“Artificial intelligence. Mr. Stark created it,” Coulson said with a tiny smile around his lips that - if Clint wouldn’t know better - seemed proud. 

“Hello, Agent Barton,” a female voice out of nowhere said and Clint involuntarily made a step back and looked around. “My name is MAIA. I’m the Artificial Intelligence and I will oversee your progress.” 

“What the futz!” Clint jumped back involuntarily and a smile crept on Coulson’s voice when he looked around to search for the source. 

“This is MAIA. It stands for Magnificent Artificial Intelligence Assistant and you can address her everywhere in the compound,” Coulson explained.

“Magnificent?” Clint asked and raised a brow. 

“Mr. Stark built her,” he said then as if that was explanation enough. And - if you knew Tony Stark - it was. 

“You can call me MAIA, Agent Barton,” the female voice said and sounded a bit amused. 

“Right, so… what…” Clint just wanted to ask Coulson when the door went open again and said Tony Stark strolled in as if the building belonged to him, looked around and went to the people in the back. And much to Clint’s dismay he sat down beside Steve. 

“There are targets you have to hit, there are targets you are not allowed to hit and there are lasers to imitate someone shooting at you. Go in, hit all the required targets and don’t get hit yourself. That’s it.” 

“What’s he doing here?” Clint hissed when he saw Stark leaning over to Steve and talking to him quietly. 

“Agent Barton,” Coulson said. “Concentration. Mr. Stark is here because I asked him to be here. It’s none of your business. You have to do the course right now.” 

“I need a weapon. My bow, a gun or do you want me to throw rocks?” Clint snapped. The fact that Stark leaned way too close to Steve right now to talk to him made him angry. Maybe, when they gave him his bow, he should use it to shoot him. 

“It’s over here,” Coulson said and led him to a table at the wall where he saw his bow case. A smile appeared on his lips when he let his hands run over the worn leather to the locks and opened it. And then he frowned. 

“Who took my bow?” He asked and glared at Coulson. The way it lay in the case was not the way he put it in. Someone took it out and did _things_ to it. 

“We had to check if…” 

“No one touches this bow ever again!” he snapped. Coulson took a deep breath. 

“Mr. Stark checked it. He knows a thing or two about electronics,” he sighed and Clint glared at him. 

“No one. Especially not him.” His jealousy was odd. He’s never been jealous of Tony before. But at the moment it was quite possible that Steve would leave him and he and Tony were always really close. What if Steve would get together with Stark when he had dumped him? What if… 

“Agent Barton-Rogers,” Coulson said and Clint’s head snapped up. “The course.” 

“Sure,” Clint said, took his bow and checked what they had done to it but he couldn’t see anything at first glance. He would take a closer look afterwards. 

“MAIA,” Coulson addressed the AI, “Start the obstacle course.” 

“Yes, sir,” MAIA answered and Clint went to the start point. The course wasn’t too difficult. Human shaped targets appeared. Some were guys with weapons, some were civilians and every now and then he saw a laser pointer. Clint went in, his bow in his hand and an arrow ready. He released his breath and started. He shot at the evil guys, he defended the civilians from the laser pointers, he ducked away when they moved in his direction and he tried to be as fast as possible without ignoring accuracy. 

“89 percent,” MAIA said when he left the course at the other end. Clint breathed hard and wiped away a bit of sweat off of his forehead. 

Coulson came over to him. “Not bad, Agent,” he said. “Really not bad.” He made a note on the clipboard he had in his hand. 

“Okay,” Clint said and threw a glance in Steve’s direction. His face was stony, his arms still folded over his chest. Stark just leaned over to him to say something and Clint gritted his teeth again. 

“Did you listen?” Coulson said and Clint’s head snapped around and he realized that Coulson had talked to him. 

“What?” Clint asked and Coulson sighed. 

“I said it’s a pretty good result for the first time,” he repeated. “But you could do better if you’re concentrated.” 

“I am concentrated,” Clint snapped. Coulson raised a brow.

“No, you’re not. You stared at Agent Rogers the whole time and you didn’t even listen when I told you your results just mere seconds ago.” 

“Okay, fine,” Clint huffed. “But now I’m concentrated. Want me to do it again?” 

“No, not today. You have an appointment with one of our doctors to evaluate your fitness level,” Coulson said and looked at clipboard. “Agent Jenson will bring you.” 

Clint stared at him for a long moment but then he sighed and with a last glance at Steve - he talked to Maria Hill at the moment - he went to the bow case, unstrung his bow and put it in the case. But on his way out of the building he managed to resist the temptation to turn around once again. Agent Jenson waited outside beside her golf cart. 

“Deputy Director Hill asked me to bring you to the cafeteria if you’re hungry,” she said and Clint deliberated for a moment but then he nodded.

“Sure, why not.”

***

Agent Jenson stayed with him in the cafeteria but Clint knew that everyone stared at him when he went to the line to get his food. They had taken away his money and so Erin paid for the two of them. Clint only ordered a sandwich and some fruit salad, together with coffee, while Erin ate pasta with curry-lemon chicken.

He wasn’t really hungry but he had no idea when he had the chance to eat again. Apparently Coulson had planned his day well. So he just nibbled at his sandwich when Erin’s eyes widened and she started to nod frantically. Clint looked up and saw Sam and Bucky behind himself, both had trays with food in their hand, too. Agent Jenson took her tray, rose and hurried away and Sam and Bucky sat down opposite of him. Clint sighed audibly and this time he took a large bite from his sandwich to not have to talk to them. 

Bucky started to shovel food in his mouth, too, but Sam stared at Clint and he was pretty sure if looks could kill he would turn to ash in an instant. 

“You have nothing to say?” he snapped when Clint took another bite from his food. Clint chewed slowly, scrutinized him and shrugged.

“You’re not the person I want to talk to,” he said when he had washed his food down with a sip of coffee. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Bucky said and Clint shrugged again. 

“Well, and I don’t want to talk to you,” he said but when he wanted to bite into his sandwich again Sam ripped it out of his hand and threw it back onto the plate. A few of the agents around them stopped eating and looked in their direction. 

“Very mature, Wilson,” Clint said but he shoved the plate aside now. 

“I want you to tell me why you betrayed Steve like that,” he hissed and Clint raised a brow. 

“First, I’m not gonna talk to you about my marriage problems and second, even if it’s none of your business, I never betrayed him,” Clint said. 

“You’re a goddamn contract killer and didn’t tell him,” Sam snapped. “I would say that’s…” 

“... none of your business,” Clint interrupted him. 

“But Steve feels pretty betrayed,” Bucky said now and Clint turned to him. 

“Did he say that?” he asked and Bucky snorted. 

“You know him. He would rather die and burn in hell than to admit that he’s hurting,” he said and a tiny smile appeared on his face. And Clint could only nod. “But I know him, too. I know him way longer than you, Barton,” he said and Clint understood that he used his surname without the Rogers on purpose, “I can see when he’s hurting.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clint said. “But he knows where to find me.” 

“You’re an asshole!” Sam hissed. 

“Maybe,” Clint admitted straightforward, “but I said it before and will say it again, I never lied to him. I didn’t tell him everything, but I never lied to him.” 

“That’s splitting hairs,” Sam said and Clint raised a brow again.

“Really? Then you told him already that you fucked Sharon on his last birthday party?” he asked and Sam paled a bit.

“You know that?” He asked and looked at Bucky who had turned to him now, his head cocked and his lips pursed.

“Hawkeye, remember?” Clint said and pointed at his eyes. “I see a lot of things, especially when they happen in my garage.” 

“You fucked Sharon?” Bucky asked now and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes,” Sam said. “I like her, okay? And it was her idea, not mine.” 

“Phew… Steve’s gonna kill you,” Bucky said and shook his head. “I mean, she’s like the little sister he never had.” 

“Hey! Am I not good enough for her?” Sam defended himself now. 

“God, you know Steve, right? No one will ever be good enough for her!” Bucky snorted. 

“So, you lied to Steve to protect your ass?” Clint asked and Sam whirled around to glare at him.

“I didn’t lie to him, I just…” he stopped, stared and then sighed audibly. “Fuck!” Clint took a sip from his now cold coffee and reached for his fruit salad.

“Welcome on the island of the damned.”


	9. Chapter 9

Steve stood at the window in Coulson’s office and looked out at the compound. He saw a few agents train hand to hand combat with Bucky in one of the yards. 

“Are you sure?” he asked after a few moments and turned back to Coulson. 

“He’s ready, Steve,” Coulson said. He leaned back in his office chair and looked up at him, his hands folded over his stomach. “He passed all the tests with flying colors. We need a sniper for this mission and he’s by far the best we ever had.” 

“But can you trust him?” Steve asked and he felt the heat creep up in his ears. He knew that he just blushed violently. 

Coulson took a deep breath and pressed his lips together for a moment. And Steve felt like an ass right now. 

“It’s six months now, Steve,” Coulson said. “Don’t you think…” 

“No,” he said and turned back to look out of the window. He could see the hangars where the techs just prepared one of the quinjets. 

“He asks for you all the time,” Coulson said. Steve gritted his teeth and didn’t turn around, just continued glaring at the compound. 

“What do you tell him?” he asked after a while. Coulson sighed audibly and threw his pen onto the desk.

“What do you think? The truth of course,” he said and when Steve looked over his shoulder he added, “that you’re not ready to talk to him yet and that you still need time.” 

Steve cast his eyes down and gritted his teeth. Technically it was the truth but damn, he missed his husband so much, the man he had married, not the man who became an Agent of SHIELD. 

“What mission do you send him to?” Steve asked after a moment and turned back to look at Coulson. But Coulson only raised a brow. 

“That’s classified,” he said, a tiny smile on his lips. 

“Seriously?” Steve blurted and Coulson shrugged. 

“Need to know,” he said. “You know the routine.” 

“Is it…” Steve started but then he bit his lip. He didn’t want to know if it was dangerous. It didn’t matter to him, he didn’t care about this man anymore. 

“He’s with a good team, Steve,” Coulson said. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him safe.” 

“You?” he blurted and Coulson’s smile broadened a bit. Not many people ever saw him like that. 

“Yes,” Coulson nodded. “Maybe you remember I’m an experienced field agent, too.” 

“That was… I didn’t…” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never thought you would....” 

“What? Pick the best sniper we have for my mission?” Coulson asked.

“Don’t tell Bucky,” Steve grinned. “He still thinks he’s the best.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Agent Barton and Agent Barnes settled their differences on this subject,” Coulson said. Steve’s mouth went dry. Agent Barton? He didn’t insist on his double surname anymore. “They…” 

“Agent Barton?” Steve interrupted him. Coulson stopped, raised his brow again and then licked his lips. 

“Well,” he said slowly, “He said, since you turned your back on him there’s no need to share your name anymore.” It was as if someone punched him. He knew that their situation was complicated but he never expected that. At least not since Coulson always told him that he asked for him. 

“Steve,” Coulson rose from his chair and went to him. “I know, technically I’m your boss but we’re friends, too. So let me tell you, as your friend,” he stopped to take a deep breath, “you’re an idiot. You still love him. Let me finish,” he said when he saw Steve open his mouth, “You still love him and you’re hurting him and yourself at the moment. So talk to him before it’s too late, okay?” 

Steve glared at him for a long moment. 

“Right,” Coulson said. “Good conversation.” He shut down his laptop and left his office without looking back if Steve would follow him. But Steve looked out of the window again and saw a few agents walk to the waiting quinjet. Clint was one of them - a duffle bag over his shoulder and his bow case in his hand - and they talked. Apparently one of them just cracked a joke because he laughed and patted his shoulder. And the dark, jealous beast in his intestines started to growl.

***

Coulson removed the ankle monitor before the quinjet started. Clint looked at him and when Coulson raised a brow, he smirked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away,” he said. 

“I believe you, Agent Barton,” Coulson said and rose. “But when this mission is over I will put it on again,” he added with a shrug. “Director Fury’s orders.” 

“Okay,” Clint nodded. “But… after this mission… can I visit a friend?” 

“A friend?” Coulson asked. He gestured at the hatch and Clint followed him into the aircraft.

“Yes,” Clint said. “Natasha. I told you about her. We worked together.” 

“You worked together?” Coulson asked and sat down in the back of the quinjet. He pointed at the seat beside himself and Clint understood and sat down. He buckled up and leaned back. “As a…” Coulson started but Clint interrupted him.

“A roofer? Yes,” he said as if that was what Coulson wanted to ask. “She’s one of the best, even if she always curses a lot in Russian. She helped me with our… my… the house.” 

“Okay,” Coulson said. “And why do you want to see her now?” 

“Because I need to talk to my best friend. My husband can’t stand to be in the same room with me and…” he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need her advice, okay? I need to talk to someone who isn’t SHIELD, do you understand that?” 

Coulson scrutinized him for a very long moment but then he nodded. “I will think about it.” 

Clint nodded. “Fair enough.” 

They landed a few hours later in a small town in Poland. The local factory was a disguise for a secret AIM lab. Agents garnered evidence in the last six months and now SHIELD came to shut it down once and for all.   
“Okay, team,” Coulson said before they left the quinjet. “You all know what to do. Let’s get the show on the road.”

***

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Walter Reyes, SHIELD’s chief of strategy, snapped at him. “We gave you a detailed mission plan and it shouldn’t be too difficult to follow it.”

Clint sat opposite of him, his arms folded over his chest and looked at Coulson, who sat on the other side of the table and read in a file. 

“When was the last time you shot with a bow,” Clint asked and cocked his head. 

Reyes stopped and furrowed his brows. “I…” he started but Clint interrupted him. 

“Thought so,” he said, rose with a sigh and went to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Coulson asked when Clint opened the door. 

“Infirmary,” he said. “It’s mandatory, remember?” 

Reyes followed him onto the corridor and Coulson came, too. 

“Agent Barton! You can’t just leave the debriefing!” Reyes called after Clint but he just kept walking. “Agent Barton!” Clint raised his left hand and gave him the finger without turning. 

“Oh my,” Phil muttered. 

“What was that?” someone muttered beside him and Phil turned his head. Steve stood beside him and watched Clint walk away and turning the corner. 

“This… this… this undisciplined circus freak…” Reyes spat and wanted to continue when he got slammed into the wall. 

“Careful what you say next,” Steve growled. 

“We found the perfect spot for him,” Reyes snapped. “And this… _Agent_...” it sounded like something disgusting, “... just went to another position and the rest of the team…” 

“Did you finish the mission?” Steve interrupted him. Reyes was perplexed for a moment.

“Well, yes, but…” 

“Did anyone get injured? Did anyone die?” Steve asked.

“No, but…” Reyes said but once more Steve interrupted him.

“Then where’s the problem? You have an agent who can think on his feet, who can assess a situation quickly and can turn it into action,” Steve told him. Coulson raised a brow and scrutinized Steve from his spot in the doorway.

“But that’s not…” Reyes started again and once again Steve interrupted him. 

“But that is the problem, Reyes. You have no idea what it means to shoot with a bow. You always had to work with guys with rifles. What do you know about trajectory, momentum, drop or wind directions?” 

“I… uh…” 

“And that’s the problem. You have no idea but he does and he can adjust your plan so that it works and…” 

“Sorry, forgot my phone,” Clint said behind him and Steve whirled around. He blushed so violently, he could feel the heat in his ears and his cheeks but Clint didn’t even look in his direction. He just walked into the conference room, took his phone and wanted to leave when Coulson took his arm.

“Agent Barton,” he said. Clint stopped and turned his head to look at Coulson, only at Coulson. 

“You can tell him I can fight my own battles if I need to. I don’t need someone, who doesn’t even want to talk to me, play knight in shining armor,” he said. He shrugged Coulson’s hand off and walked away. Steve pressed his lips tight together and tried to ignore Coulson’s eyes on himself. 

He gritted his teeth, turned on his heels and walked away, too, but in the other direction. 

“Stubborn idiots,” Coulson muttered exasperated. 

“What was that?” Reyes asked and Coulson turned to him.

“Go back to your work,” he said, went to grab his paperwork and then walked to his office.

***

Steve sat in his car and looked at the house. He hasn’t been here for a while. He had asked for a room at HQ where he slept since SHIELD had arrested Cl… _him_. But he needed a few of his personal papers for the lawyer he had called and unfortunately they were still here.

With a silent curse he eventually opened the door, went out of the car and slammed the door shut. He fumbled for his keychain in the pockets of his jeans and walked up the few stairs to the front door. _He_ had built the stairs when they had bought the house. He had said the old ones were ugly and it was his first project to pimp the house. 

Steve unlocked the front door and went in. The shutters were closed and it was dim inside and so he switched on the light. Dust lay everywhere and he cringed slightly. Cl… _he_ loved to keep the house tidy and it was always squeaky clean. He reflexively removed his shoes and put on the slippers from the wardrobe beside the front door and when he realized what he had done he cursed himself silently. 

He went through the living room, where _he_ had built a new fireplace. Steve loved the fireplace, he loved the warmth in the winter and he… With a growl he turned and continued walking to the door into the corridor. He saw the kitchen through the open door, the counters Cl… _he_ had built in his workshop according to Steve’s wishes. He loved the kitchen and actually missed cooking here. 

“Dammit,” he cursed and went to the corridor, passed the stairs and opened the door to his office. The desk was also custom-built as almost everything here in the house. It was made of white oak with beautiful inlaid work on the surface. It’s been _his_ gift to their first wedding anniversary and Steve had almost cried. It was perfect. 

Now he sat down in the leather chair behind it and started to search for some of his papers when he heard the doorbell. He frowned. Only Bucky knew where he was. The doorbell rang again and Steve rose and went to the door. 

“Natasha?” he blurted when he saw the red-haired woman outside. She’s been one of _his_ co-workers, a roofer as far as he knew. She’d helped him with the roof when he had fit out the attic and Steve liked her.

“Hello,” she said and raised her brow when he just stared at her. But then Steve remembered his manners and stepped aside to let her in. 

“Cl-Clint’s not here,” he said. “He’s…” 

“I know,” Natasha interrupted him and came in. “I’m here to talk to you.” 

“To me?” Steve followed her to the couch where she sat down without waiting for an invitation. 

“Yes, to you,” she said and pointed at the armchair as if it was her house and she just offered him a seat. Steve sat down. 

“I don’t…” he started but once again Natasha interrupted him. 

“Do you still love Clint?” She asked. Steve cast his eyes down way too fast. He looked at the tips of his fingers before he shrugged. 

“You don’t understand,” he said quietly after a few moments. “It’s complicated and…” 

“No, it’s not complicated. It’s a simple question. Do you love him or not?” 

“I love the man I married,” Steve said. “But this man, who walks around with his face and murders people in cold blood… I don’t know him.” 

Natasha nodded slowly and Steve realized that she wasn’t shocked, not in the slightest. 

“You knew about this?” He asked but it wasn’t really a question. “You knew it.” 

“Steve,” Natasha said. “I know Clint for a very long time, he told you, right?” 

“He said you two were in the same orphanage and then in the same foster family for a while. He said you’re like the sister he never had,” Steve said. 

“That’s right,” she nodded. “And let me assure you, the Clint you know, the one who built a fireplace for you even though he’s afraid of open fire, the one who…” 

“What?” Steve interrupted her. “What are you talking about?” 

“Of course,” Natasha muttered. “He never told you.” 

“He never told me what?” Steve snapped now. 

“He told you that his parents died in a car accident when he was a child, did he?” She asked and when Steve nodded she continued. “He was in the car, too. His dad was drunk and he ran into a tree and somehow the car caught fire. He sat in the backseat and saw his mom and his dad burn to death.” 

“Oh god,” Steve mumbled. “That’s… that’s awful. And… and he never told me.” 

“I’m the only one who knows because I was the one who helped him through the nightmares when he was a kid,” Natasha said. “Yet, here we are, sitting in your living room where he built an open fireplace, just for you.” 

“See, that’s what I meant,” Steve said after a long moment. “He never told me things like that. I… I don’t know him and that’s…” he shook his head again. 

“He wanted to protect you,” Natasha said. “He wanted to keep this… he said he didn’t want to burden your mind with his fucked up past.” 

“Because he never trusted me?” Steve asked and Natasha shook her head. 

“No, because he loves you,” she said. “Like I said, I know him for a very long time and believe me, he loves you more than everything.” 

“How do you know?” Steve asked defiantly. After all, the last time he had seen Clint he never even looked at him.

“He told me,” she said. “The guy he works for… Coulson… he allowed him to visit me a few days ago. We talked for a long time and… even if you don’t really deserve it, he misses you.” 

“Tell me… tell me something about him he never told me,” Steve said and looked up. “Tell me something…” 

“The… uh… the money he got,” she said slowly, “He uses it to do good, to make up for what he had done.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Steve swallowed hard.

“Every year in December he buys a shitton of presents for the children in a few orphanages here in New York _and_ he dresses up as Santa to give them to them. He buys food for animal shelters. He even bought an apartment building in Bed Stuy to help the tenants against the Russian mob,” she counted on her fingers. “He never used a single penny of the money for himself, always to help people with it.” 

Steve pressed his lips together and looked at his fingers. 

“Did he tell you about Kate? Her parents - rich fuckers I may add - threw her out and Clint gave her an apartment in his building for free as long as she couldn’t afford the rent. This, Steve, this is the man you married. Yes, Clint killed people. Bad people. People, who really deserved it. But he’s a good guy. He wants to help people. That’s the man you married. Think about it,” she said. When Steve didn’t look up she rose. “I’ll find my own way out.” 

Steve didn’t move, he just sat there and looked at his fingers. Natasha told him lots of stuff he didn’t know. Things Clint should’ve told him. But he didn’t. _’He wanted to protect you.’_ she had said. He took a deep breath and wanted to rise when he saw an envelope on the table. He frowned. It wasn’t here when he came in. Natasha! 

Carefully he reached for the envelope, opened it and saw a document folder inside. He took it and started to read. 

And then he cried.


	10. Chapter 10

The mission was supposed to be a cakewalk. But things never turn out the way one expected. Intel had said the facility in Rio de Janeiro was a research facility of AIM with lots of scientists and only a few soldiers to guard them. 

Intel was wrong. 

Steve was there with a small team. He, Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Jasper Sitwell to coordinate the mission. But apparently it was a trap. It wasn’t even AIM, it was something else, something Steve didn’t expect here. HYDRA. 

“Rogers! Status!” Was the last thing he had heard from Sitwell before he had lost consciousness. They were outnumbered on a large scale and even though Steve and Bucky were pimped up, the large number of their enemies was enough to take them down. 

He woke in a prison cell with heavy manacles around his wrists and ankles. They were connected by heavy chains and it was almost impossible to move without falling on his face. In the cell opposite of them he saw Bucky, tied up just like him. He sat on the ground, his back to the wall and his eyes closed. They both were completely naked. 

“Where are we?” he groaned and looked around curiously. 

“Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Bucky muttered but he moved his head and opened his eyes. 

“Where are Sharon and Sam?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Haven’t seen them since I woke up.” 

Steve rose, slowly because his whole body was in pain, and went as far as the chains allowed. He could almost reach the bars. Almost. Beside Bucky’s cell were more cells and he assumed it wasn’t different on his side. 

“Sam!” Steve called as loud as possible. “Sharon!” 

“Stop that,” Bucky hissed and rose, too. “I tried that already and only the guards came in with their cattle prods.” He nodded at his hip where Steve could see the marks. 

“But we have to do something,” he said and tugged at the chains. They were made to hold someone like him. 

“No shit, Sherlock?” Bucky snapped angrily. “But right now we can’t do jack shit!” He tugged at his chains, too. 

“I’m pretty sure Sitwell will come with reinforcement,” Steve said. He moved back to the wall and sat down. The floor was cold and uncomfortable but there was no furniture, not even a blanket. In one of the corners was a hole in the floor and Steve had an idea what it was for. 

“Fuck,” he cursed a few minutes later. 

“Yep,” Bucky nodded and closed his eyes again.

***

He had no idea how long they sat in the cell. The light in the corridor was always the same and every now and then someone came and shoved some food in to them but not regularly. Steve was cold, he couldn’t feel his toes anymore and his legs and arms were numb.

“Get up!” Someone snarled and Steve’s eyes snapped open. Apparently he dozed off for a few moments. A few guys stood in front of Bucky’s cell and had opened the door but one aimed a rifle on him, Steve. 

“If you do something dumb we shoot him,” the guy said and Bucky nodded. Slowly he rose and groaned painfully. Two men entered his cell and went to him, undid the chains and tied Bucky’s hands on his back. Bucky didn’t struggle. He knew he was fast but the bullet would be faster. 

“What are you up to?” Steve asked. “Where do you take him?” 

“Shut up!” One of the guys snarled. “You’ll find out soon enough yourself!” 

“You just…” Steve started again but another one of the men pressed a cattle prod in Bucky’s side and Bucky yelped. Steve stopped immediately. 

The men dragged Bucky out of the cell and along the corridor. He was gone for hours and sometimes Steve could hear screams. Whatever they did to him, it was painful. 

A guy came and shoved some food over to Steve but he couldn’t eat. He just drank some water they gave him. 

“Where’s Bucky? What are you doing to him?” he had asked but the man had only looked at him and walked away. More screams in the distance and then they eventually brought Bucky back. 

He was unconscious. Two men dragged him into his cell with his arms over their shoulders. They let him drop down to the ground and chained him to the wall again. They locked the door and unlocked Steve’s door. A few of them entered the cell and one aimed at Bucky’s head. 

“Get up,” one of the men snarled. And Steve obeyed. He had to use the wall to get up because he was a bit drowsy. 

The men tied his hands behind his back and led him along the corridor to an elevator. The door was open and he was shoved in. He was brought to a white tiled room and he could see blood splatters on the floor. Bucky’s blood?

Steve struggled against the grip but they used their cattle prods and it hurt like a bitch. And somehow he couldn’t use all his strength. Maybe they put something in his food? No, the water! It was in the water.

“No!” he protested when they shoved him onto a metal table and strapped him down. The shackles they used were solid, Steve tested them. “No, stop that!” 

“Gag him,” a woman in a white lab coat said when she entered the room. “I don’t want to hear him babbling.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” one of the guys said and shoved a ball gag between Steve’s teeth and fastened it behind his head. 

“So,” the woman said and smiled cruelly. “Let’s see what we have here.” 

And then the pain started.

***

Weeks. It had to be weeks. Both, he and Bucky, had lost track of time. Steve lay in his cell on his side, had his arms wrapped around himself and shivered. They had brought him back some time ago and he couldn’t stop shivering. It was so cold, so, so cold. Only his super-soldier body kept him alive, he knew that.

His whole body was in pain. The experiments in the lab were so painful and his voice was rough from screaming. He had tried not to scream but it was futile. No one told them what happened to Sam or Sharon. They just came, fetched either him or Bucky and then there was pain. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered and came over to the bars as far as possible. “Steve!” 

“Wh-wh-wh-wha…” Steve managed and tried to sit up but it hurt. 

“Did you hear that?” Bucky asked now and cocked his head, listened to something in the distance. 

“N-n-n-no,” Steve stammered. “Wh-wh-what…” 

“Guns! Someone’s shooting out there,” Bucky said. “Maybe SHIELD is coming for us.” 

“I-i-i-i… d-d-don’t…” 

Something exploded close to them and a few moments later Steve saw feet. 

“Coulson, I have them,” the person said and now Steve recognized the person. Melinda May aka the Cavalry. “Cover your ears!” she snapped and Steve moved his hands slowly to his ears and put his fingers in them. Melinda put something onto the doors and they burst open only moments later. She went to free Bucky first and together they came in Steve’s cell. She unlocked the chains around his limbs and Bucky helped him up. He had had some time to recover from his last session and he could stand without help already. 

“Come on, punk,” Bucky muttered. Together they managed to lift him up and Bucky put Steve’s arm around his shoulder and his hand on his waist. They both were still naked when they followed Melinda out onto the corridor and to the destroyed door. 

Steve groaned when Bucky moved too fast. 

“Fuck,” Melinda suddenly cursed and looked at Bucky. “Wait here, I’ll be back in a few.” Bucky nodded and Melinda disappeared around a corner. 

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky mumbled. “Let’s move a bit.” 

Steve nodded and together they stumbled the same way Melinda had just used. But when they turned the corner, too, Steve saw an arrow pointed at them, at him. It was a situation not really new to him. And once again the man who held the bow was… Clint. 

“Steve,” he breathed but just when Steve opened his mouth, Clint said, “Trust me.” And then he released the string of the bow. Steve didn’t move, stayed completely still and the arrow whooshed past him, he could literally feel it on his skin but it didn’t hit him. Instead they heard a gurgling noise from behind them and a guy slumped down to the ground, an arrow in his throat. 

Before Steve could say anything Clint was here.

“Steve,” he whispered and ran his hand through his hair and over his shoulder. “Are you…” he started, stopped and turned to Bucky. “Are you two okay?” 

Bucky nodded and Clint stepped back. Steve almost whined when he broke the contact. 

“Okay,” Clint said then. “Go that way,” he said and pointed into a corridor. “Get up the stairs, turn left and out of the building. A quinjet and medical help is waiting.” 

He turned around, took an arrow and ran into another direction. 

“Clint,” Steve whispered, but Clint didn’t hear him anymore. 

“Come on,” Bucky murmured. “Let’s get outta here.” 

And together they went to the stairs and to their freedom.

***

He lay in a bed in infirmary and glared at the ceiling. The doctor refused to let him go. He was here for two days now and he was okay. At least he felt okay. The drowsy feeling was gone and the pain, too. The doctor had suggested he should see a shrink but Steve only glared more. It wasn’t the first time he got captured and it wasn’t the first time he got tortured. He definitely didn’t need a shrink, thank you very much.

Sam and Sharon had visited him yesterday. They both were okay. HYDRA had locked them in a cell in another corridor and Coulson’s team found them unharmed. 

When the door went open Steve’s head snapped up. He hoped it was the doctor who would tell him that he could go but it was Coulson. He let his head drop back and sighed. 

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too,” Coulson said. “How do you feel?” 

He took a chair and sat down beside the bed. He placed the briefcase he had had with him beside the chair. 

“I want to leave,” Steve grumbled. “I’m here way too long and…” 

“You got tortured and submitted to all kinds of experiments for two weeks, Steve. The doctors want to make sure you don’t have permanent damages or injuries.” 

Steve turned to him and looked at him now. 

“Why are you here? Sitwell was the handler for this mission. Shouldn’t he be here to talk to me?” 

“First of all, I’m here as your friend, Steven,” Coulson said, a brow raised. “And then, Sitwell won’t come, he’s under arrest.” 

“He’s what?” Steve sat up too fast and his head started to spin. But he couldn’t believe what Coulson had said. Sitwell was under arrest? “Why?” 

“As it turned out, it was Sitwell who led you into the trap and turned you over to HYDRA,” Coulson said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Many agents were arrested since…” Coulson stopped.

“Since?” Steve asked and Coulson just waved his hand.

“It turned out HYDRA undermined SHIELD worse than initially thought. I mean, we knew we had a few of them in our ranks but apparently there were way more of them than expected.” 

“And Sitwell was one of them?” Steve asked. 

Coulson nodded. 

“Sitwell, Rumlow, Rollins…” he sighed. “Three complete STRIKE teams, lots of agents, some people in administration.” 

“That’s… wow…” Steve shook his head. 

“Yeah,” Coulson nodded. “But thanks to…” he stopped again. “Thanks to Agent Barton we could find all of them.” 

“What?” Steve blurted. 

“You remember that he killed a complete STRIKE team once? And he told us that they were HYDRA. It was confirmed, remember?” 

Steve nodded. Yes, he remembered Clint had said that. He read all the reports about his interrogations. 

“Apparently…” Coulson sighed again, “apparently he investigated for way longer than we knew.” 

“He what?” 

Coulson opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder. He put it down on Steve’s bed and nodded at it. 

“Read it,” he said, smiled and rose. “And I have to go back to work. There’s still a lot of… well… bullshit to take care of.” He went to the door but before he left the room he turned around and looked at him again. “As a friend, Steve, I suggest you eventually talk to Agent Barton. It’s the least he deserves. After all, it was him who found you.” 

He quietly closed the door behind himself and Steve took the folder and started to read.

***

Steve took a deep breath and stared at the door in front of him. He stood in a building in Bedford Stuyvesant, a building that belonged to Clint. It was a bit older but in good order even if the elevator didn’t work.

He walked up the stairs to apartment H and now he stood there and stared at the door.

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered and took another deep breath before he raised his hand and knocked at the door. A dog started to bark and he could hear a voice calling for it. He made a step back, turned to go away, but then the door went open. 

“Lucky, stop!” A brown, one-eyed dog jumped up and put his paws on Steve’s chest. He seemed to smile and panted excitedly. “Lucky, down!” 

Clint reached for the dog’s collar and pulled him back before he realized who was there. 

“Steve,” he said and let go of the dog. Lucky sat down and looked at Clint, who folded his arms over his chest. 

“I… uh…” Steve started and scratched the back of his neck when he sensed someone else in the apartment. 

“Hey, Clint, uh…” a young, dark-haired girl said and came over to them but when she saw Steve her eyes went wide. “Oh, uh… I guess I should take Lucky to the park.” She reached into the apartment to get the dog’s leash. 

“Kate,” Clint said and nodded at Steve, “That’s Steve. Steve, Kate.” He introduced the two of them. 

“You!” Kate hissed as soon as she realized who he was. “You…” 

“Kate, please,” Clint interrupted her. 

“You, sir, you’re an asshole!” Kate snapped in Steve’s direction. He opened his mouth to defend himself when she continued. “And you don’t deserve him. He’s better off without you!” 

“Kate!” Clint said again but Kate still ignored him. 

“Come on, Lucky,” she said and attached the leash to the collar. “Let’s get outta her. It stinks!” Infuriated she dragged the confused dog to the stairs and the two men could hear her grumbling the whole way down to the front door. 

“I’m sorry,” Clint said and stepped aside. “Wanna come in?” 

“No,” Steve said. “I mean yes… I mean... she’s right and…” he took a deep breath. “And yes, I would like to come in. We… uh… we should talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* I guess I need another chapter, it'd be too long.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve looked around curiously. Clint’s apartment was not what he had expected. He knew Clint’s skills as a carpenter but this? This was not _Clint_ , this was trash. 

There was an old, ratty couch in the living room and a TV on a small coffee table, an old kitchen with a small island and two bar stools in front of it. Steve saw at first glance that all the furniture was bought and not self carpentered like lots of the furniture they had in their house. The tips of his ears felt hot and he knew he just blushed. 

“Do you want coffee?” Clint asked and walked over to the kitchen where he had a coffee maker and nothing else on the counters. “Or water? I don’t have anything else.” 

“Coffee is fine,” Steve said and followed him. Clint gestured at one of the bar stools and Steve sat down. He opened one of the cupboards, took out a mug, filled it with coffee and gave it to Steve before he filled another mug. He turned around, leaned against a counter and took a sip from his mug. 

“So… uh… you have a dog now?” Steve asked and Clint shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said. “He saved my life and got injured at it so I brought him to a vet and then…” he shrugged again. “I like him, so I kept him.” 

Steve nodded. But he wasn’t here for small talk, he was here to talk to Clint.

“I… uh…” he started and felt his cheeks burn. He had literally practiced in front of a mirror what he wanted to say but now he had forgotten everything. “Thanks for… uh… saving us,” he said then. 

Clint nodded slowly. “Well, it’s part of my job as a SHIELD agent,” he said. 

“I know… uhm… Coulson… Coulson told me you did way more than just your job and…” he stopped and cast his eyes down. Clint took another sip from his mug but didn’t say a word. 

“And… uh… Natasha gave me the letter,” Steve said. He licked his lips. “Can you please say something?” 

“Why should I do that?” Clint asked. His voice sounded colder than Steve was used to and it hurt. 

“Okay, you’re right. I’m an idiot and I overreacted but you have to admit you’re not entirely innocent,” he said. Clint held his eyes for a long moment before he nodded. 

“I wanted to tell you everything,” he said. “I was at the verge of it so many times but…” he licked his lips, “... I was scared I would lose you and…” he swallowed hard, “Maybe I was selfish but the time with you was the best time in my life and I didn’t want to lose that even if it meant to lie to you.” 

Steve looked at his hands and toyed around with the mug for a moment when Clint continued. 

“I planned to let Hawkeye die,” he said quietly. Steve’s head snapped up and he looked at him worriedly. “Not… not me, just Hawkeye.” 

“Really?” Steve asked. 

“Yes, really. Like I’ve said, I hated to lie to you and I knew only one of us had a chance to survive and so…” he shrugged, “When I had the accident and SHIELD arrested me, I was on the way back to you. Kate helped me to plan how to get rid of Hawkeye and…” 

“Kate? Who _is_ Kate?” Steve asked. Natasha had told him about her but he wanted to hear it from him, Clint. “Is she… your successor?” 

“Kate? God no!” Clint snorted. “I mean, yes, she’s an archer, too, and she could do it because she’s almost as good as me but no, she’s not my successor. She’s a college student with an archery scholarship on her way to the Olympics. And I help her a bit,” he said. He put his mug down on the counter, walked over to the living room where he had a few pictures hanging on the wall, took one of them and brought it back. It showed the young girl who just stormed out of the apartment with the dog. She held a bow and a trophy cup in her hand and smiled happily. 

“That was the first time she won the state championship,” he said with a smile on his lips. “I wanted to tell you so badly how proud I was,” he added quietly. 

“And… she lives here?” Steve asked and Clint nodded.

“When she’s not at the college, yes. Her dad found out that she likes girls and he threw her out,” he said. “I met her when she tried to steal my wallet in a coffee shop, I caught her and I offered to help her. She worked really hard to get herself the scholarship and… she’s a good girl. Her father’s an asshole.” 

Steve couldn’t hold back the smile. Yes, Clint would be a really awesome father and that reminded him of the folder Natasha had given him. 

“Have you… uh… Natasha gave me this,” he reached in his pocket and took out the folded piece of paper. “Have you seen it?” 

Clint looked at it for a very long moment before he shook his head. 

“I’ve asked Nat to fetch my post since SHIELD _released_ me back to the world,” he said. “I… didn’t wanted to enter the house.” 

Steve saw him swallow before he turned to refill his mug. His own coffee was cold by now but he didn’t care at the moment. 

“You should take a look,” he said and Clint stared at the paper before he looked up. Steve shoved the paper closer to him. Clint took it, unfolded it and read. 

“Oh… oh my god,” he whispered. A tear ran over his cheek and Steve was tempted to reach over to wipe it away. “Well,” Clint said and straightened his back, “unfortunately it’s too late now.” He threw the letter back onto the kitchen island and took his mug again to drink. 

Steve reached for the letter and opened it, too. He had read it quite a few times before but now he read it again. 

“It… it doesn’t have to be over,” he said then slowly and looked up. Clint still leaned against the counter and scrutinized him carefully. “I mean…” 

Clint put his mug down again, left the kitchen, went up the stairs in the living room and came back a minute later. He threw a stack of papers onto the kitchen island beside Steve’s hands. The petition for a divorce his lawyers had sent to Clint. Steve had signed it before they had sent it and now he saw Clint’s signature on it, too. 

“That’s what you wanted,” he said. “And now you have it. Now you’re free to do whatever you want.” 

“Clint, please. Can we talk about this?” 

“Oh, now you want to talk? For months you didn’t even look at me. I wanted to explain everything to you but you refused to be near me and now you want to talk,” he said bitterly. “Well, then, go on. Talk!” 

“I miss you,” Steve whispered. “I cannot live in… in our house because you’re not there. It’s too quiet and…” He took a deep breath. “I have a room at HQ, sometimes I bunk on Bucky’s couch, but it’s impossible to live in the house without you. It feels… wrong.” 

“Then sell the house,” Clint shrugged. 

“I don’t want to sell the house,” Steve huffed. “I want…” he stopped and ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve talked to Coulson,” he said then. “He… he told me everything you told him about you.”

Clint looked at him, pressed his lips together and turned around. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asked softly. 

“Why? Maybe because I didn’t want you to think I’m damaged goods, that’s why!” Clint snapped. 

“You’re not damaged goods, Clint. You’re a survivor.” 

“Yeah?” Clint snorted. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. They both looked at each other for a long moment. 

“I know, I made mistakes,” Steve said. “I should’ve given you the chance to explain everything but… you have to admit I had the right to be a little pissed off. I found out the man I had married was a serial killer and…” 

“Contract killer,” Clint mumbled. 

“... lied to me for years and so, yes, I was more than pissed off. It hurt, Clint, you have no idea how much it hurt. I made mistakes, you made mistakes, we both made mistakes. But… but I love you, I still love you and… look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me and I’m outta here for good.” 

Clint cast his eyes down and gritted his teeth but kept quiet. 

“I thought about it and… and I talked to Sam and Bucky… and Bucky called me punk quite a few times,” Steve said and Clint couldn’t hold back the smile because he knew that Bucky always called him punk when he was really exasperated. “So, why don’t we… I don’t know… start afresh?” 

“You mean, we forget what happened and pretend nothing ever happened?” Clint raised a brow. 

“Yeah? Why not?” Steve huffed. “It’s… it’s the only idea I can come up with and… like I said before… I don’t want to lose you. You started to take out HYDRA before SHIELD even knew that they had a huge problem. And Coulson said you did it to protect me.” 

Steve rose from his bar stool, walked around the kitchen island and took Clint’s hand. 

“Clean slate for both of us, what do you say?” he asked. Clint licked his lips nervously, opened and closed his mouth a few times before he nodded. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s… let’s give it a try. But…” 

“But?” 

“No more lies, okay? If there’s something to say, we say it. No more secrets, no more lies. All right?” 

“All right,” Steve smiled and made another step in Clint’s direction. He was so close, he could smell Clint’s shower gel and he couldn’t move his eyes away from his lips. And when Clint opened them, he just couldn’t stop himself, he closed the distance and kissed him. It was a hard, fervent kiss, full of emotions and longing. Clint wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pressed him close to his body. He had no idea how long they kissed and the only reason why they broke the kiss was the dire need of air. 

They both breathed heavily, looking at each other. 

“I love you,” Steve whispered and Clint started to smile. 

“I love you, too, idiot.”

***

Epilogue

4 months later

 

“I have a new mission for you and your team,” Coulson said as soon as Steve had closed the door behind himself. He pointed at a chair opposite of the desk and Steve sat down. Coulson handed him a folder and Steve opened it. He saw the dead body of a man, lying in a bed, his throat slashed. 

“Sergej Myshkin, Russian ambassador and compulsive gambler. And apparently he cheated regularly on his wife,” Coulson said. When Steve turned the page he looked at the picture of a woman, blond with icy blue eyes. 

“His wife Yuliya,” Coulson said. “She’s the youngest daughter of Oleg Fedorov.” 

“ _The_ Oleg Fedorov?” Steve asked. “The billionaire who literally owns half of Moscow?” 

“The very one,” Coulson confirmed. 

“Apparently Mr. Fedorov was not very amused that his son-in-law cheated repeatedly on his daughter and took matters in hand himself.” 

Steve turned the page and saw a picture from a security camera. It was a very alive Sergej Myshkin in the corridor of an expensive looking hotel. He had his arm around a woman with long, black hair, a black dress with red belt and killer stilettos. She wore shades and had an expensive bag on her other arm. Another one of his flings as it seemed. 

“She was the last one who saw him alive,” Coulson said. “But no one could find out who she was so we think that she’s the killer.” 

Steve nodded. He tried to imagine this small woman killing the man who was taller by more than a head and probably twice as massy. 

“There’s a rumor going around about a professional killer. She’s called the Black Widow. No one knows who she really is and this is by far one of the best pictures we ever got. But with the wig and the shades we can’t identify her.” 

“How do you know it’s a wig?” Steve asked and frowned. Coulson pointed at the file and Steve turned the page. There were more pictures of the woman. Sometimes she was blond, sometimes she was red-haired, sometimes she was brunette, sometimes she had long hair, sometimes the hair was short, sometimes it was straight, sometimes it was curly. But her face was never identifiable. And it seemed she really liked stilettos. 

“You can dye hair, you know?” Steve said and looked up. Coulson’s face was a blank mask and he raised a brow. 

“Yes,” he said. “But you can’t grow it back in a few days.” He leaned over and pointed at two of the pictures. “There were only a few days between those two incidents.” 

“Okay, so she wears a wig and kills people,” Steve said. “And why’s that our problem and not the FBI’s?” 

“Because she’s as dangerous as Hawkeye has been, maybe even more,” Coulson said. “And that’s why we want to make sure she’s out of the game.” 

“As dangerous as Hawkeye, huh?” Steve asked, a brow raised. 

“Yes, only without his… moral principles,” Coulson said. 

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “I’ll brief my team.” 

“She’s dangerous, Steve, don’t forget that,” Coulson added when Steve rose. He took the folder and went to the door. 

“I know, but my team’s good,” Steve smiled.

***

Clint was in the gym, together with Sam, Bucky and Sharon. They practiced their hand to hand combat techniques when Steve came in.

“We have a mission,” he said and waved around with a stack of files he held in his hand. Clint, who had just pinned Sam to the ground, looked up, saw Steve and couldn’t hold back the smile. Sam used this moment of distraction to wriggle out of Clint’s grip and pin him himself. 

“Ouch,” Clint yelped, “that was unfair!” 

“Eyes on the enemy, not on your husband,” Bucky threw in and Clint poked his tongue at him. 

“Very mature, boys,” Sharon sighed. But she grabbed a towel and turned to Steve. “Tell us about the mission, fearless leader,” she grinned. 

“We’re on the hunt for a contract killer with the name Black Widow,” he said. “Coulson said, she’s very dangerous and we need to take her out as fast as possible.” 

Clint’s mouth was dry from one moment to the next. The Black Widow was Natasha’s alias. They wanted to kill Nat! He left the mats and went to his towel, saw his phone and took it, too. Steve told them about the mission and Clint sent a quick text to Natasha. 

**Nat, SHIELD’s out for you. Our team is sent to take you out. I’m gonna talk to Steve. No more lies.**

And a moment later he sent another message.

**You ever thought about switching sides?**

“Hey, babe,” Steve said and Clint’s head snapped up. Sam, Bucky and Sharon just read the files Steve had given them. He held a copy for Clint in his hand and smiled at him. “Ready for a new job?” 

Clint licked his lips and Steve leaned in and kissed him. 

“Are you worried?” Steve asked when he moved back. He scrutinized Clint who licked his lips again. 

“I… uh… we need to talk,” he said then. “There’s… there’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Is it about the mission?” Steve wanted to know and Clint scratched the back of his neck. 

“I… uh… might know the Black Widow,” he said. 

“You know the Black Widow?” Steve blurted. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Uh… it never came up,” Clint said. “Hey, I know lots of people!” He just wanted to continue when his phone beeped. He looked at the screen. It was a message from Nat. 

**Let’s talk about it. You know the place, I’ll be there in an hour.**

“Do you trust me?” Clint asked and looked at Steve.

“You know that I do,” he said. 

“Then come with me. There’s someone I would like to introduce you to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys, for reading, for the kudos, the comments and for the patience. I hope you liked the story and... maybe I will add one or two more scenes in near future :D

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [clintbartonruinedmylife on tumblr](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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